


Boys of Summer

by AmyViolet



Series: Boys of Summer [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Infidelity, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-03-06 10:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18849694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyViolet/pseuds/AmyViolet
Summary: Sam returns to Lima in time for sectionals, and he and Blaine discover they are still as drawn to each other as ever. But Blaine is with Kurt and Sam has Mercedes to win back, so what are they to do?NOW COMPLETE!





	1. Hold onto Sixteen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gleeville](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleeville/gifts).



> Reposting chapters 1 & 2 from FFN. The third chapter is new as of June 2019.

"It means that I'm not for sale."

He really didn't mean to say the one thing that would hurt Sam the most. It was just...

He and Kurt were happy. They were. And...not to be crude or anything...but he was finally getting some. _Finally_. But it was totally worth the wait...or it would have been if he had actually waited. He had mostly waited. He had waited to go all the way...he hadn't done that without Kurt. And it was worth it.

Not two hours ago, in fact...Kurt had been uncharacteristically aggressive for the last couple days. It had something to do with whatever he and Sebastian had talked about at the Lima Bean while Blaine was getting more coffee—he knew that but didn't question it, as he was totally happy just reaping the benefits. Kurt had gone down on him in the car right after that, in fact—in the garage, so it wasn't _that_ kinky, but still. And now, still...two days later, Kurt was still all ramped up. At lunch today, they had gone to Kurt's house, where he had begged Blaine to fuck him on the couch. Which Blaine had happily done.

So it wasn't desperation. It wasn't desperation that made Sam's "dance moves" have the particular effect on him that they did. Sam had actually said something about being desperate, but Blaine _wasn't_ desperate, and desperation was the only way he had justified to himself how he had...There was no other way to say it: how he had cheated on Kurt with Sam over the summer.

And now, God help him, he just wanted to do it again.

As if yesterday hadn't been bad enough. First there was the shock of just seeing him again, and being with Kurt at the time so he had to act cool. And fuck if Sam didn't look hotter than ever, even all bundled up like he was so you couldn't see any of his amazing definition, much less skin. And then that song he sang! Yeah, it was just a novelty song, sure. A novelty song about a _cup_. A novelty song that referenced underwear and testicles. A novelty song that included the line: "I fill you up."

Santana marching in and talking about his mouth didn't help any either. Blaine did not need to be reminded about the gorgeous perfection that was Sam's mouth. How perfect it had felt surrounding his cock. And Sam—he didn't get mad at Santana, he just stood there and smiled. His mouth was perfect even he was doing stuff with it that wasn't sexual at all. Not to mention how his eyes looked when he smiled...

But that was okay. Kurt was so great and so beautiful, and he'd gone home with Blaine after school. And when Kurt sucked him he barely thought of Sam's mouth at all. And when Kurt fucked him...Well, Kurt didn't actually fuck him. Kurt liked to bottom and that was cool, because Blaine loved to top him. Blaine hadn't even felt especially deprived by never getting to bottom...except when he thought about Sam's cock in his ass.

And how wrong was that? It wasn't like Kurt would refuse, probably, if Blaine told him he really, really wanted to bottom. The problem was that he didn't really, really want to...for Kurt. So, yeah, really wrong.

It was fine, though—or as fine as possible. He couldn't undo cheating on Kurt over the summer. But he wouldn't do it again, obviously. There wasn't even any reason to: Kurt was giving him everything he needed. Of course seeing Sam again unexpectedly had affected him in unfortunate ways. That was the guilt, probably. He totally deserved it. But now all he had to do was deal with the guilt on his own and just...just get used to Sam's presence again. And once he was used to it, seeing Sam would be no different from seeing Finn or Puck or Artie or Mike or Rory.

But he'd never seen Finn or Puck or Artie or Mike or Rory dance like _that_. Well, maybe Mike. Mike's dancing was amazing, and Blaine couldn't honestly claim that he'd never given him a second look when he danced. But it wasn't the same. _Mike_ hadn't been a stripper, showing off (and maybe more?) his incredible body for money. _Mike_ didn't have an incredible body that Blaine had already seen and felt intimately—and how could he not be reminded of that when Sam was doing body rolls in front of God and everybody?

"Look, I came back here to win," Sam said. "When you're desperate, sometimes you gotta, you know, use your assets and do what you gotta do to get back that advantage. This..." and he rolled his hips seductively, as if Blaine needed any reminded of what Sam's assets were "...is the advantage."

"Of course that's what _you_ think. You have to think that in order to sleep at night."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that I'm not _for sale_."

Sam shoved him, and understandably so. It was a cheap thing to say and Blaine knew it. If Finn and Mr. Schue hadn't stepped in...Well, who knew?

Blaine stormed off, trying not to think what might have happened without their intervention. Sam might have hit him, though he didn't really believe that. What he was really afraid might have happened is that he might have tried to kiss Sam. Right there in front of Kurt. That was why he had to get the hell out of there.

He went to the gym to work out some of the...the tension. The punching bag. Not that he felt like punching anyone, but the gym didn't have a fucking bag. There was Kurt, but he couldn't use him like that. He'd already treated him really badly, he knew that, but he didn't want to make things even worse.

He was standing at his locker, having just pulled his sweater off, when Sam walked in. "What's your problem with me, man?" he demanded.

"Leave me alone. I don't have a problem with you."

"Coulda fooled me."

"I have a problem with me, all right? I have a problem with how bad I want you, and I know that's not _your_ fault..."

But what happened next _was_ Sam's fault. He gripped Blaine by the waist and backed him against the lockers, covering his mouth with his bruising lips. His tongue filled Blaine's mouth as Blaine struggled not to stop the kiss but to keep up with it. Blaine clutched at the short hair at the back of Sam's head and tried to pull his face closer, as if that were possible.

When Blaine did extract his mouth from Sam's, it was to bury it in his neck, right below the ear. There was a spot, right there, that just smelled so Sam...and tasted so Sam...The scent and the flavor sent his brain straight back to those three summer nights, and that was the only place he wanted to be.

"Sam...let me..." He didn't even know what he wanted, what he needed.

Sam, eyes closed, head tilted slightly back, breathed heavily, "Anything. Anything you want."

Having been given permission to do anything he wanted, Blaine continued what he was already doing: trying to inhale and devour Sam through that one spot on his neck. Sam let out a long guttural moan that went straight to Blaine's cock...as if Blaine's cock needed any additional stimulation. He found himself rutting against Sam's thigh—weakly, because he was pinned against the locker—while humming into his neck.

Sam stepped back just enough to give himself room to slide his hands under Blaine's ass, lifting him up. Blaine wrapped his legs around Sam so that now he was thrusting against Sam's cock, and Sam was thrusting against his.

Blaine's head rested heavily against the locker now, as Sam wetly kissed his neck and ear. "Sam...fuck..." And then he felt Sam's teeth on him, and then he felt those lips form a tight seal, allowing for sublime suction, suction that felt almost as good as if it had been on his cock, suction drawing all his blood to the surface...

"Fuck, Sam...stop. Stop!"

Sam pulled off his neck with a pop and looked at him questioningly, disheveled and dazed. "What's wrong?"

"You can't give me a hickey," he said. Kurt would see it, and...And that was why they shouldn't be doing this at all. Because he shouldn't do this to Kurt, not just because he might get caught. "I can't. I'm sorry. Kurt..."

"Right." Sam exhaled loudly and let Blaine down. "I'm sorry. I...I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah. No, me neither." Blaine held his neck where it was still hot and wet from Sam's mouth. "We just..."

"No, I get it. We can't do this." Sam ran his fingers through his hair. Blaine didn't know if he was trying to straighten it or if it was just an unconscious gesture—he knew Sam probably wasn't doing it deliberately to turn him on even more, but that's the effect it was having. So it was equal parts great relief and crushing disappointment when Sam added, "I'm gonna leave," and then did just that.

Once he was gone Blaine finished changing. Now way more than when he'd first come to the gym he needed to do something with his excess...he could call it energy, he guessed. Frustration, obviously. He refused to even consider trying to take care of it by jerking off. That seemed like it would be rewarding himself for...for what he'd almost just done to Kurt. Again. So, no.

XOXOXO

Blaine was right. Obviously he was right, they couldn't do...what they'd almost done. It wasn't fair to Kurt, especially since Sam was a guest in his home now and for an indefinite time to come. And it wasn't fair of Sam to even put Blaine in that position.

He kind of got why Blaine wanted him bad enough to risk hurting Kurt. Blaine was into dudes, and Sam was an attractive dude. His months of getting paid good money just to let people look at his body had proven that this was objectively true. And if Kurt still wasn't putting out, then Blaine must be out of his mind by now—probably any halfway good-looking guy who showed any interest would be a major temptation to him.

But why he wanted Blaine that bad was a bit more of a mystery. It wasn't like summer when he kept getting his hopes up with Mercedes only to get shot down again and again.

Mercedes. That's who he should be with. He should try again and _not_ cheat on her this time. Quinn said she was seeing someone else, but that was okay. It seemed right, somehow, that he should have to work to win her back.

And it wasn't that he wanted to be with Mercedes again to prove to himself that he wasn't gay. Not at all.

He just walked right up to her in the hall and took her hand. And it felt good, holding her hand again. Not at all sleazy like sneaking around with Blaine behind Kurt's back. Maybe a tiny bit sleazy because of Mercedes's new boyfriend—but it was just hand holding, and it was just for a second. Because Mercedes did just what he knew she would: she took her hand out of his and told him they couldn't. So yeah, she was definitely the kind of person he should be with. He would fight to get her back.

XOXOXO

Watching Mercedes sing with the other girls at sectionals made everything so clear. First, she was hot in that little silver dress. They all were, Santana and Brittany and those other girls too, but none of them had Mercedes's presence. And her singing—she fucking killed it. It probably had something to do with the song, but the confidence she had...she didn't need Sam or anyone.

It wasn't that he found that a turn-on, exactly. It didn't exactly turn him off either, but the point was that it made him realize something about Blaine. It made him realize that how bad Blaine wanted him _was_ a turn-on. That maybe _that_ was why he went so crazy around Blaine.

And he did feel crazy around Blaine still. Just look at him. He had the same stupid white jacket and black tie on that all the guys were wearing—it certainly wasn't revealing or anything—and he somehow looked so fucking hot. So what the hell was up with that anyway?

Not that it was about his clothes, obviously. The way he danced, Jesus. And it wasn't like he was trying to seduce Sam—though he was watching Sam as much as Sam was watching him. But he was seducing the whole damn audience. Sam was doing that too, but that was something he learned from stripping. And okay, some of his moves were directed specifically at Blaine; he just couldn't help it. With Blaine it was just his natural seductive personality.

After the performance, Sam knew they'd won, he just knew it. They all did. Everything had gone perfectly—they all just had a vibe. Not just the Blam vibe, though of course that was the one he was most aware of.

He didn't trust himself to approach Blaine in the choir room, until he saw Blaine hugging Finn and he knew he had to get in on that. He was cool about it, though, and it was just like a normal, friendly guy-hug among teammates who'd just kicked ass.

There was that moment on stage, waiting for the results, when he was nervous. He knew they'd won—he knew they _deserved_ to win anyway—but you never _really_ know until you hear it out loud. So then when they did hear it out loud, it was, like, the greatest feeling ever. Or...the second-greatest. And it made him want that _greatest_ feeling, and fuck everything he'd decided about getting back with Mercedes and not helping Blaine betray Kurt again.

Blaine saw the way Sam was looking at him when they won. After they left the stage he stayed as close to Kurt as he could. He knew Sam wouldn't do anything to him against his will, obviously; he just didn't totally trust himself to be strong enough to resist.

But he didn't want to be clingy, and Kurt wanted to hug and congratulate everyone. You know, like a normal person who could trust himself around guys other than his own boyfriend. So it was inevitable that he would find himself with Sam sooner or later.

"Sam!" he exclaimed, giving him a shoulder clasp that he hoped seemed jovial and nothing more. "We did it! So glad you came back for this!"

"Me too, man!" Sam said. He returned the shoulder clasp, but he hand lingered a little longer than Blaine's had. He added, lower, "You were amazing. The way you sang, the way you danced..."

"Thanks," Blaine said, blushing. "You too."

"So..." Sam leaned closer so he could speak in a near-whisper. "Fuck, Blaine, you're so hot. Look, I know we shouldn't, and I know it's wrong—"

"Really, really wrong," Blaine said, frowning.

Sam pulled away again. "Yeah. Yeah, forget I said anything." He turned and hesitated a moment before walking off toward Mike and Tina. Blaine fought the urge...he _successfully_ fought the urge to run after him or call him back, and instead he went to talk to Finn. His boyfriend's brother.

Kurt joined them a minute later, and Blaine wrapped his arm around his waist. "Finn, it's time to get all these people over to the house!" Kurt said. He'd planned a celebration party, claiming to be confident all along that they would win. But Blaine happened to know that there were alternate back-up decorations in case the party had been consolation- rather than victory-themed.

He didn't want to go. He didn't want to be in a house with his boyfriend and his boyfriend's family and the guy he wanted to cheat on his boyfriend with. Not in the state he was in. In the state he was in, he wanted to lock himself in a room by himself until all these urges passed.

But he couldn't think of a way to explain that to Kurt...Well, there was no way to explain that to Kurt. What he really needed but also couldn't think of was a plausible lie to tell Kurt to explain why he couldn't attend the party. So he went, with everyone else, including Sam, of course. Sam lived there now; where else would he have gone?

There was no drinking at the party. Burt and Carole were around so it wasn't even a question. Unlike at Mercedes's going-away party for Sam, no one felt the party sucked because of the lack of alcohol; everyone was in way too good a mood for it to matter. People sang and danced and laughed and talked; Blaine didn't even have _that_ hard a time keeping himself busy with anyone and everyone but Sam.

Around ten Burt and Carole started shooing everyone home. It had been raining all evening, and the temperature was dropping fast enough that soon the roads were going to be icy. Blaine was on his way with everyone else—everyone except Kurt and Finn and Sam—to get his coat when Kurt took his hand and pulled him aside.

"You're not leaving, are you?"

"Your dad just kicked everyone out. The ice—"

"I know. It's perfect," Kurt said, squeezing his ass. "I'll say you wanted to stay to help clean up, and they'll have to let you spend the night."

Blaine smiled. "Yeah. That is perfect." Spending the night with his boyfriend. What could be more perfect?

Burt called his parents to make sure it was okay with them if he stayed. "Your mother said it's fine," he told him after he got off the phone. "Carole and I are going to bed, so keep it down. With the _cleaning_."

Sam helped clean up too, and he managed to avoid looking at Blaine or Kurt while doing so. He and Finn chatted a bit, until Finn just sort of disappeared. Apparently cleaning wasn't really his thing.

Kurt groped Blaine a couple times; Sam acted like he didn't notice, but Blaine knew he did. Especially when he said, "I can finish up if you guys wanna...go do something else." There was still kind of a lot of stuff to put away, and Kurt was usually pretty particular about that sort of thing, but he jumped at Sam's offer.

Sam watched—he tried not to, but he did watch—as Kurt gleefully pulled Blaine down the basement stairs. Blaine didn't look back at him, but then why would he?

The basement, of course, was where Sam's "bedroom" was now. He was sleeping on the hideaway in the rec room—the very couch where Blaine had blown him the first time, in fact. It was impossible not to wonder whether Blaine was on that couch doing the same exact thing to Kurt right now. Or vice versa.

The rec room wasn't exactly soundproof, not in the sense of having soundproofing panels installed or anything like that. But it must have been constructed pretty sturdily, because not a lot of sound escaped from it. Sam never heard anything when he walked by the stairs...which was more times than was strictly necessary. He avoided asking himself why he kept walking past and listening and whether he was relieved or disappointed not to hear anything.

The couple emerged from the basement an hour and twelve minutes after they went down there. Sam didn't _watch_ them or anything; that would be creepy. Just a glance or two over the top of the comic book he was "reading." And he certainly didn't comment, _Well, don't you guys look happy?_ —though they did. Kurt did anyway. Blaine looked...well, he really didn't dare to look at Blaine too closely.

"Sorry, Sam," Kurt said, though he really didn't seem sorry at all. "I hope you weren't waiting to go to bed."

"No, of course not," Sam said, barely looking up from his comic. "If I was tired I would've gone downstairs. I wouldn't have been interrupting anything, would I?"

"Oh!" Kurt said. "Well, actually..."

"He's just teasing us," Sam heard Blaine whisper to Kurt.

Teasing? Not exactly what he thought he was doing.

"Well, we're going to bed," Kurt said.

"All right. Night!" Sam didn't look up until they were halfway up the stairs. Kurt had his hand on Blaine's ass. Blaine's ass was so fucking...off-limits. Blaine's ass was off-limits.

He went downstairs as soon as those guys were out of sight and got undressed for bed. He noticed that the washing machine was running but refused to speculate on what Blaine or Kurt might have needed to wash so late and night and why. He brushed his teeth in the little bathroom, pulled out the bed, and got into it.

Not that he was remotely tired. He badly needed to get off, and he was going to take as long as necessary to do so _without_ thinking about Blaine.

It was a lucky thing that Blaine had turned him down right after they won, because at that moment, if Blaine had said yes, Sam would have gone as far as Blaine would have let him. Now, of course, he could remember all the reasons that would have been wrong. Now he could focus his...his...Well, what else could he call it besides lust? He could focus his lust on something else. Some _one_ else.

Mercedes...

He reached under the sheet and slid his boxer briefs off his hips. He stroked his half-hard cock, thinking of Mercedes in that sparkly silver dress, of how he could see her thighs when she jumped or spun. Holding her hand in the hallway, that was nice. Until she pulled it away...because she was seeing someone else...Wait, how was thinking of Mercedes any less sleazy that thinking of Blaine?

Blaine...

And there went his cock, from half- to fully hard, instantly. And maybe it was because Blaine's hand had actually been on his cock before, unlike Mercedes's, or maybe it was just because Blaine was so fucking hot and that cute little ass and the way he smiled at Sam while Sam did his body roll during their song and...and, really, Blaine even made his stupid boy-band moves look sexy as hell. "Fuck, Blaine..." he said, right out loud.

He was _not_ expecting Blaine to answer him, but he did. He was there in the rec room—Sam hadn't heard him come in—and he said simply, "Sam." And then he was in Sam's bed, under the covers, tugging at Sam's shirt.

"Blaine...what..."

"Can we do this now and talk about it later? Please, Sammy?"

And, god, there had only been three other times when Blaine called him Sammy, and so of course he nodded and pulled his t-shirt off, followed by Blaine's.

Blaine disappeared under the sheet, and he pulled Sam's underwear the rest of the way off. He didn't even ask why they were partway down to begin with; he must have already known.

"Ah!"

Blaine just bit his ankle!

After that second of surprise, having Blaine's teeth on him biting their way up his leg was intense and awesome. When he got to the knee he lifted Sam's leg and rested the calf on his shoulder; he started to lick and suck the soft crease behind the knee, and Jesus, that was a spot Sam never even knew was sensitive. His hands found Sam's hips and held them down against the mattress.

Sam needed to touch his dick—it was just down there, twitching, desperate for some contact. But he didn't want to do anything that might make this over too soon, and so he laced his fingers with Blaine's against his own hips.

Blaine kissed up the inside of his thigh, leaving a trail of spit. His hair, stiff with gel, brushed against Sam's balls; Sam bucked up, or would have if he weren't being held firmly in place. "Blaine...fuck...please..."

Disentangling his hands from Sam's, Blaine pushed Sam's legs apart wide enough for him to wedge his shoulders between them. And if he thought Sam's neck smelled good the other day—which it did—this was just...holy fuck, could you come from a smell alone?

How had he gotten through the last few months without smelling...without seeing, without touching, without tasting this beautiful cock? How had he gone his whole life without feeling it inside him? That needed to change. "Sammy?" he asked, lightly dragging his fingernails up his shaft.

"Ng?" Sam replied. Blaine glanced up and saw his eyes were shut tightly and he was biting his lip.

"I want you to fuck me, Sammy. Will you fuck me?"

"God," Sam said, exhaling a large amount of air. Blaine took this as a yes, and he took the tip of Sam's cock into his mouth, licking off and swallowing a large glob of precome. Sam whined and clutched the hair at the back of Blaine's head as he took more of more of his cock, until it was poking a spot far down in his throat.

Sam thrust shallowly; he couldn't help it. Another thing he couldn't help was noticing how much better at this Blaine had gotten since they'd last been together—and he'd been far from bad at it then! Blaine was gripping his ass, bobbing his head and sucking...fuck..."Stop, Blaine! If you want me to fuck you..."

Blaine stopped and placed some kisses around Sam's navel instead. He shimmied up until they were lying face to face, Blaine on top. He kissed Sam's neck, that same spot by his ear that he liked, and whispered, "I want you to fuck me so bad. I want your cock in my ass _so bad_."

Sam's hands were under his briefs now, on his ass, parting his cheeks. One finger descended to just inside the rim...and then abruptly stopped and withdrew.

Blaine's asshole was wet and...slippery, and...and Sam knew, as much as he'd been trying and mostly succeeding at not thinking about it, that he'd been doing stuff with Kurt not that long ago, but...but if Blaine actually had Kurt's spunk in his ass still..."Blaine, is that...?"

"Is what, Sammy?"

"Is that...Did Kurt...in your...?"

Blaine looked confused, but just for a couple seconds. "Oh! No! That's just lube."

"Oh. Well why...?"

"I..." Blaine really didn't want to talk about Kurt at all, but he didn't want to lie either. "I wanted...I wanted you to fuck me—I still want you to fuck me—but I didn't want to want it. I thought if Kurt would do it that would...make me not want it from you as bad. So I asked him to and he was going to..." because Kurt was a good boyfriend and Blaine was a horrible boyfriend and what he was doing now was so fucking wrong and don't even think about that now because it's _Sam_ and he's going to fuck you...still, hopefully "...and he got me ready...Do you know much about that?"

"I don't think...I've never..."

"Well, it's lube and stretching. Lube for, you know, slipperiness, and stretching so it'll fit without tearing stuff. So, you don't even have to do that for me. I'm all lubed and stretched and ready for your cock."

"Can I see?"

Blaine slid off Sam and lay on his stomach on the bed; Sam moved down between his legs. He pulled the briefs off and dropped them on the floor. Blaine's ass, Christ. So round and...and he wanted to bite it. And so he did and Blaine yelped and rutted against the mattress. He took a cheek in each hand and pulled them apart slowly until Blaine's little hole was fully exposed, all wet and shiny with...with lube.

"So he really didn't...?" Sam asked. It wasn't that he didn't trust Blaine, but...well, Blaine _was_ cheating on Kurt, so...

"No. He... _fuck_..." Sam was exploring, and Blaine was really glad he was prestretched because he'd just plunged two fingers in at once. "He likes to bottom so I...so we did that first, and he came, and I told him— _god, Sam_ —I told him it was okay, he didn't have to..."

"I don't wanna insult your boyfriend or anything, but he's gotta be some kind of idiot if he doesn't want to fuck you. You're so...and your ass, my god...So I can just go ahead?"

"Yeah. Please, Sam!"

Sam pushed in hard, all at once. Blaine screamed and grabbed the corners of the mattress in a death grip. His whole body went rigid and then started to shake a little.

"Oh God! Blaine, I'm so sorry! I thought...I've never..."

Blaine managed to force the words "It's okay" out of his mouth. He never had either, but he really hadn't expected it to be this big a deal. He knew all about prepping, which he'd done. And Kurt had never fucked him but he had fingered him, so... But Sam just pounding into him right from the start...no, he wasn't prepared for that.

"What should I do?" Sam asked.

He didn't want Sam to pull out, even though it kind of...no, not kind of, it hurt. But it wouldn't, once he got used to it and relaxed. "Just hold still. Don't move at all until I tell you to."

"Okay." He felt terrible that he'd hurt Blaine; if he'd known he would have gone slow. But at the same time, and it would have sounded horrible to admit out loud, but pushing into Blaine the way he'd done had probably given him the single greatest feeling of his life. Blaine's ass was so tight and squeezed his cock just right. And having to hold still now, it was so hard, when his body (if not his mind) was screaming at him to move.

Blaine concentrated on breathing deeply. He couldn't...nope, he couldn't unclench his ass yet, but maybe if he started at the extremities and worked his way inward. Okay, toes? Easy, he could relax his toes. Fingers? Harder, because it meant letting go of the mattress, but he managed it. Arms, legs, neck, stomach...eventually he managed to relax it all, even his ass. It helped when Sam did little things like make soothing noises or rub his back.

He started to become aware that Sam's cock felt good inside him. It still hurt a bit, but it was also sort of amazing. And if he shifted a bit so it pushed in just a bit deeper, it felt even better.

"You're moving," Sam said. "Does that mean you're ready for me to move too?"

"Yeah. Slowly."

Sam pulled out a tiny bit and pushed back in, as slowly as he could. It took almost more self-control to go slow like this than it had taken to hold completely still. Slowly pushing into Blaine a little bit felt so good it just made him need to push in more and faster.

A few more slow, shallow thrusts had Sam convinced that this was the best and simultaneously worst, most frustrating experience of his life. "How are you doing, Blaine?" he asked, though just asking made him feel like kind of a jerk. Cause while he did care how Blaine was doing, what he really, really wanted was for Blaine to assure him that he was fine and that he could start fucking him hard.

"Fuck, Sam."

Sam wasn't sure if that was an answer or a command or what. He decided to test the command theory first. "Yeah?" he asked, thrusting a little harder. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Fuck," Blaine repeated. Words weren't his friends at the moment; words barely registered in his consciousness. His whole consciousness was consumed with Sam's cock inside him. He pushed back on it hard, hoping to convey his meaning that way. And then another word that might help popped into his head, and he told Sam, "More."

It was the perfect word; it was the exact word Sam wanted to hear more than anything. He pulled most of the way out and plunged back in fast. Blaine fisted the pillow and screamed, but it wasn't a clear pain scream like the first one. And then there was the word again, _More_ , and Sam stopped holding back.

"So. Good. Blaine. _Fuck_. Feels. So. Good."

"More, Sammy."

Sam looked down at Blaine being jostled with every thrust on the flimsy hideaway mattress. He watched his cock disappear over and over into Blaine's perfect ass, and he was so turned on by how good Blaine was taking it.

More, Blaine just wanted more. More of Sam's cock slamming into his ass, more of Sam's fucking motions rocking him back and forth. His dick was pinned under him with only the sheet to rub against, and yet it was so hard and so needy that the friction from the sheet felt awesome. He was going to come just from this, he could feel it, and he was close, so close.

And then Sam's cock grew even more, expanding where there was no room to expand, and Sam started sputtering, "Oh fuck oh fuck oh _fuck_ ," and drilling into him so hard and fast that he could barely stand it. And he felt—and he could swear he even _heard_ —Sam's spunk gush into him, filling his ass to overflowing.

Sam slumped onto Blaine's back, never having felt so limp and content. He kissed Blaine's shoulder blade and mumbled, "That was amazing." He was starting to doze off when he felt Blaine sort of wiggling or something under him. "I'm sorry," he said, rolling off. "I didn't mean to crush you."

"No, you didn't," Blaine said, but he looked kind of pained so Sam wasn't sure—until he added, "It's just that I didn't come yet..."

"Oh, duh!" Sam said. "I just...had my mind blown and I wasn't thinking. Sorry."

He turned Blaine onto his back and took his red, leaking cock in his hand. With two fingers of his other hand he touched the head, spreading the precome around. Blaine knew he was close, but he was surprised to find himself coming the very second his cock came into contact with both Sam's hands. But as soon as Sam realized what was happening he jerked and kissed him through it while Blaine mindlessly thrust into and spilled over Sam's fist, ending with a full-body shudder. He opened his eyes and smiled up at Sam.

"I was gonna blow you," Sam said.

"Damn. Maybe next time." Blaine immediately regretted saying that, because obviously this had to be a one-time thing. "I mean...it was pretty amazing as it was."

"Yeah. And again, I'm really so—"

"Don't," Blaine said. "Don't apologize. It was amazing. Let's leave it at that."

Sam nodded. "It was amazing."

Blaine stood up. He picked up his t-shirt and used it to clean the come off himself, his own and Sam's.

"Do you wanna use the shower?" Sam asked.

"No thanks. I should really get back upstairs before..."

"Yeah, okay."

Blaine found his underwear and some pajama pants that he had apparently removed by the door before Sam even knew he was there. He put them back on and held the t-shirt uncertainly. "Do you have some dirty laundry I could mix this in with?" Sam pointed to a basket and Blaine stuck the shirt under some jeans.

Sam found his own underwear in the sheets and put them back on. He recovered himself with the sheets. "So. See you at breakfast?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Blaine said. As he climbed the stairs he added, "Night."


	2. Yes, No, and Michael

"Tell us everything."

Blaine had to be kidding. He knew very well what had happened between him and Mercedes over the summer: diddly squat. But, okay. If that's how he wanted it. Sam would tell the guys about his summer fling.

And Blaine, he played it so cool, even when Sam touched his arm as he said, "Well she was good, you know what I mean." Even though he had to know Sam meant _he_ was good.

Lunch was over and most of the guys headed back inside. Sam and Blaine lingered on the bleachers for a few minutes. "Why'd you ask me about my summer fling in front of everyone?"

"Sorry," Blaine said. "Kurt and the girls had this plan to try to get Mercedes to talk, and Kurt wanted me to ask you..."

"Ah. Kurt." Sam didn't really talk to Kurt as much as you might think, living in the same house with him and everything. But Kurt was gone a lot. Specifically, he was at Blaine's a lot. Not that there was any reason that should bother Sam. And actually, it bothered him a lot less than the times the two of them were in Kurt's room and Sam could hear them, or imagined he could hear them.

He and Blaine didn't talk about...well, they didn't talk much at all, really. They certainly didn't talk about what happened after sectionals. So this, right now—it was very weird. When Blaine said he had to get to class, Sam pretended he needed a minute to tie his shoe, just for an excuse not to walk with him. And, okay, maybe he stared at his ass a little while he walked away.

And that was it. He really had to get back together with Mercedes so he could stop lusting after his host-brother's boyfriend.

He joined synchronized swimming for her. All that got him was a complex about his nipples and a couple slushies to the face. He came up with an epic proposal plan...not _for_ her, exactly, it was for Mr. Schue to propose to Ms. Pillsbury, but Mercedes should have been impressed by how romantic he was.

"I don't think Mercedes even realizes it was my idea," Sam complained to Finn that night after the whole thing was a huge success. "Rachel totally took credit for it just because she picked that song, which by the way was all wrong. Uh, you don't need to tell Rachel I said that."

"Don't need to tell Rachel that you said what?" Kurt asked as he and Blaine joined Sam and Finn in the kitchen.

"He doesn't like the song she picked for the proposal," Finn said.

"The proposal was totally romantic," Blaine said. "The singing, the synchronized swimming, the flowers..."

"Yeah, and it was _my_ idea. Except the exact song, which was all wrong."

"'We Found Love,' what's wrong with that?" Kurt asked.

"The second half of the line: 'in a hopeless place.' If you can find love somewhere then it isn't hopeless. And besides, McKinley isn't that bad."

Kurt scoffed and said, "You are way too Pollyanna."

"What? I was happy to come back to it, and so were you. You even talked Blaine into transferring."

"That's true, Kurt," Blaine said. He looked down at his hand, the one that was holding Kurt's, and he added, "I wouldn't have transferred to McKinley if I thought it was hopeless."

"Point taken," Kurt said. "Who wants iced tea?" He was getting glasses out of the cupboard when Burt rushed into the kitchen.

"You guys gotta do me a favor and clear outta here for a while," Burt said.

"Why?" Finn asked.

"Well, Finn, I know you're uncomfortable hearing about certain aspects of my relationship with your mom..."

"Oh, God!" Finn was up and out of the kitchen immediately.

"Here," Burt said, handing Kurt twenty bucks. "Go out for coffee or something."

Finn was nowhere to be found by the time the other three guys got their coats on and made it out to the driveway. They guessed he had probably gone to hang out with Puck, since Rachel wasn't big on impromptu dates, at least not when they weren't her idea.

"Well, I guess it'll just be the three of us at the Lima Bean," Kurt said.

"Nah, you guys go ahead," Sam said. "I'll go...I'll just go to the library and study or something."

"Don't be silly, Sam. You didn't even grab your books."

Kurt was right, he couldn't really study without his books. And as much as he didn't want to be a third wheel on Blaine and Kurt's sorta-date, he really didn't have anything else to do, and so he went with them.

Blaine drove. They were barely settled at a table with their drinks when Kurt got a call from Mercedes. Sam watched the water in his cup darken as the tea steeped while trying not to look at Blaine too much or eavesdrop on Kurt's call.

Not that he could help but hear Kurt's side of it: "You have plenty of lovely—...Well, yes, of course, but—...I can't right now, I'm on a, well, not exactly a date..." He covered the phone and said, "She wants me to go to the mall with her. I'm trying to tell her we're doing stuff."

"You can go if you want to," Blaine said. "We're not actually doing much."

"But I don't want to just leave you guys with each other. I mean, I'm not saying you won't be able to think of lots of stuff to talk about..."

"No, you should definitely go," Sam said. "It kinda sounds like she needs you, and like Blaine said, we're just sitting around killing time. And like _you_ said, Blaine and I can think of stuff to talk about." Blaine looked at him warily, but Kurt actually looked relieved, and he arranged with Mercedes for her to pick him up at the Lima Bean.

"Kurt, when you guys are hanging out, you gotta put in a good word for me, okay? Tell her the proposal was my idea because I'm all romantic and stuff. Please?"

"Is that why you were so eager for Kurt to go?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah. Of course." _Of course_ that was the only reason. Why else would...okay, well he knew perfectly well Blaine might think...except he shouldn't think that because been so good about leaving Blaine alone and respecting his relationship with Kurt. And besides, Mercedes was the one he was interested in. Obviously.

"Sam..." Kurt said. "I don't think I can do that. Mercedes is my friend. I wouldn't be comfortable trying to sabotage her relationship."

"But you don't think she belongs with that guy, do you?"

Kurt took a long sip of his mocha like he was pondering how to answer. "I don't have to see whatever she sees in him. If he were mistreating her that would be one thing, but—"

"Maybe he is. You know? Like when I got slushied the other day—"

"You got slushied?" Blaine asked. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Sam shrugged because, really, what was he supposed to have done? Gone to Blaine and let Blaine clean him up and kiss him and make it better? "It happens," he said. "Anyway, Mercedes was helping me wipe my face off, and along comes Mr. Burly, barreling down the hall like he owns it, and he _orders_ Mercedes to stop talking to me even and go with him, like, right away. I don't think she should be with someone who orders her around."

Kurt looked a little concerned but mostly skeptical. "That doesn't sound like something Mercedes would put up with. I'll see what I can find out, but I'm _not_ sending her into your arms."

"What's wrong with my arms?" Sam asked, inspecting them. Kurt just rolled his eyes and didn't even answer, proving there was _nothing_ wrong with Sam's arms.

After Kurt left with Mercedes, Blaine said, "If you don't want to hang out with me I can drive you home or somewhere else."

"Why wouldn't I want to hang out with you?" Sam asked, peering into his tea. It was too dark, he'd let it steep too long. He didn't actually like tea all that much, but he could drink it without milk or sugar, unlike coffee. He should've had a bottle of water.

"So you really want Mercedes back," Blaine said.

"Yeah. Of course. I mean, I deserve _someone_ , don't I?"

"Yeah, definitely. But I mean, maybe...No, never mind."

"Maybe what?"

Blaine avoided his eyes and said, "Maybe you should be interested in someone who doesn't already have a boyfriend."

Wow. Blaine really had a lot of nerve if he was suggesting that...Sam jiggled his teabag around and said, "I'm not _interested_ in you, if that's what you're getting at."

"I didn't say—"

"And besides, look who's talking."

"What...Look, who kissed who in the locker room, huh?"

"Only after you said you wanted me bad. And besides, who snuck into whose _bed_? Right after fucking their boyfriend?"

"Okay...I...you..." Blaine sputtered. He stood up like he was going to leave, but then he saw something that made him freeze. Sam turned to see what it was. Behind him stood one of the Warblers, a tall guy he didn't remember.

"Sorry, am I interrupting a lovers' quarrel?" the guy asked with an obnoxious smirk.

"Oh. Hey, Sebastian," Blaine said, not really meeting the guy's eye. "No, of course not, just a...a regular quarrel."

"I gotta go," Sam said. He stood up and grabbed his tea.

"Sam, wait..." Blaine held out his keys, reminding Sam he was his ride.

"Don't worry about it, I feel like walking." He dropped his undrunk tea in the trash on his way out the door.

Sebastian sat in the chair that had been Sam's. "New boyfriend? He's hot."

"He's just a friend. An acquaintance, really."

"Oh, good. So you're available."

"No! No, I'm still with Kurt."

"Wow." Sebastian shook his head and chuckled lightly. "I've gotta hand it to you, Blaine. You pull off the innocence and virtue thing really well. And I'm not just saying that because it wounds my ego that you'd cheat on your boyfriend with that guy but not with me." Blaine tried to protest but Sebastian just held up his hand to quiet him. "Don't worry, I'm the least judgmental person you'll ever know. Just don't insult my intelligence by trying to bullshit me."

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Blaine said, forcing himself to stand. "And I'd love to stay and chat but I have to get home."

He made it to the front door before Sebastian called after him, "See you later, beautiful." He didn't want to look back at him but he couldn't help it somehow, and Sebastian had that arrogant smirk on his face again.

Sebastian started calling him mornings before school. Blaine almost didn't answer his phone the first time; the only reason he did was...well, to tell the truth he was a little bit scared of Sebastian. It crossed his mind that Sebastian might be planning to tell Kurt what he knew or thought he knew about him and Sam. It would help if he at least knew how much Sebastian had actually heard and how much he was just guessing at.

And so he did answer, with no small amount of trepidation, but Sebastian was actually sort of...nice. He even started out with an apology. "I think I made you uncomfortable last night, and I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention. Sometimes I go too far with the joking around and the playful flirting."

"Oh," Blaine said, taken by surprise, "No, it's okay."

"And I don't really want to come between you and Kurt. Well, I do, but only by seducing you away from him for myself. I hope you don't think I'd tell him about you and the blond god just out of spite."

"No, I...I mean, there's nothing to tell."

Sebastian was silent for a split-second longer than was comfortable. When he did speak he said, "Okay. But if there were anything I still wouldn't tell. I really am very nonjudgmental."

"Um...that doesn't surprise me somehow."

Sebastian laughed. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Anderson. But now listen, there was actually something I wanted to ask you. If I gave Nick a solo at regionals, do you think he'd rise to the occasion, or do you think he might panic and choke?"

"Wait. You're asking me for regionals strategy advice?"

"Why not? You're a pro, and you've known Nick longer than I have."

"Yeah, but...I'm the competition. What makes you think I won't give you intentionally bad advice?"

"Because, Blaine," Sebastian said patiently, "you're not that kind of guy."

And Blaine wasn't that kind of guy. That is, it was tempting, but he really didn't want to be that kind of guy. But he didn't exactly want to help out the Warblers, either, so... "Maybe you should ask David what he thinks."

"I've made you uncomfortable again. I'm sorry, I really am doing my best here!"

And he was, Blaine could tell Sebastian was trying, so he said it was fine and changed the subject. They didn't end up talking for long that first morning, but it was a little longer the next time Sebastian called and a little longer still the time after that.

So, yeah, Blaine mentioned that they were planning on singing Michael at regionals. Sebastian had told him stuff about the Warblers too, like the thing about Nick's solo. He didn't think anything of it until Sebastian told Kurt and Santana and the others that the Warblers had changed their set list because of it. He thought Sebastian was joking, in fact, when he said it.

Rachel didn't think so, obviously. Neither did Kurt—although Kurt had never liked Sebastian—or Santana or Artie. It wasn't until Sebastian said he was tired of playing nice that Blaine realized he was serious.

Sebastian had the nerve to call him the next morning, as if nothing were up. "Good morning, starshine," he said casually when Blaine picked up.

"What the hell, Sebastian? You announce you're stealing MJ from us, getting my whole team mad at me _not to mention my boyfriend_ , and then you call me as if we're still friends?"

"I still like _you_ , Blaine. It's nothing personal."

"The hell it isn't!"

"Look. Blaine," Sebastian explained calmly. "If it were personal...if I really wanted to get Kurt mad at you, I could have told him something much worse. Don't forget that."

Blaine was speechless. He didn't know how to interpret that as anything other than a vague threat. He was filled with a sudden dread about what Sebastian might say next—and how he would respond to whatever it was—and so he hung up abruptly. And immediately called Sam and asked to meet him in the choir room before school.

Sam was there before he was. He stood up when Blaine walked in and said, "I'm glad you wanted to talk, dude. It's been weird avoiding each other."

"Yeah, but that's—"

"And I'm sorry. I really am. Some of the stuff I said was totally out of line."

"Well, I was the first one to say something out of line. So I'm sorry too."

"I've been thinking, though," Sam said, "and you weren't totally wrong. I mean—"

"Sam." It wasn't that Blaine didn't want to hear what he wasn't totally wrong about. He actually wanted to hear about that very, very much. But there were only a few minutes until first period started, and he wouldn't have a chance to talk to Sam alone again until glee practice. "That guy who heard us talking? Sebastian? He knows about us. He doesn't know specifics, and I denied it, but he knows."

Sam took a step back and leaned against the piano. "Oh. So...he knows what, exactly? And how?"

"I'm not sure. If he heard everything—and I've replayed the conversation over and over in my mind—if he heard everything then he knows that you kissed me and I snuck into your bed."

"Uh huh." Sam nodded to himself and looked thoughtful. "Well that's not _so_ bad. The kiss, maybe, but that was me, that wasn't you cheating on Kurt. And the bed thing...it doesn't prove anything happened. You could've been, like, scared because there was a thunderstorm or something."

"Y-yeah. Well and he might not have heard anything; he could just be inferring. In any case he doesn't have proof, and Kurt's not going to believe him over me. Over me and you. So if he does say anything, we just deny it."

"Okay. I mean I hate to lie." Blaine's panic at that statement must have shown on his face, because Sam hastened to add, "Not that I'm gonna tell Kurt. I just mean I hate that we're in a situation where we have to lie."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, "we shouldn't have..."

"That's not exactly what I meant, though," Sam said. "You're right, totally, that we shouldn't have done it. But since I'm _wishing_ , I mean...I wish we'd done it but it wasn't something we had to lie about."

"Oh," Blaine said. He wanted to agree, but...would that mean saying he wished he weren't with Kurt? Or maybe just that Kurt somehow wouldn't mind? It was perhaps something he should think about, but he still had to tell Sam the other part, the part about Michael Jackson.

After he did, Sam was confused. "So wait," he said, "You told this Sebastian guy about our plans for regionals because he was blackmailing you?"

"Not exactly," Blaine tried to explain. "It was more like...I think the fact that he said he _wasn't_ going to tell Kurt about...you know...even though he's always flirting with me and stuff—"

"Sebastian flirts with you!?" This information seemed to make Sam jealous, which was a little weird, considering.

"Yeah. So it seemed like maybe he'd have a reason to want to tell Kurt, but since he didn't tell him, I guess it convinced me I could trust him. And he told me stuff about the Warblers and it seemed like we were...friends or something..." Blaine realized how stupid and naïve and gullible that made him sound.

"Oh my God, what an unbelievable bastard. He's seriously like some kind of evil genius. Well...but okay, so what? So he knows we're doing MJ. I mean, how many times have they all told us—everyone who was here the first year, I mean—about how their entire set list for sectionals was stolen, and they didn't even know it until the competition had already started? This is nothing compared to that. No big deal."

Right. It wasn't that big a deal...or it shouldn't have been, anyway. But the rest of the New Directions didn't agree, and Blaine somehow found himself suggesting that they "take it to the streets."

It was Puck's fault, really, with his comment about Blaine being an "eggs benedict." And of course Mr. Schue, as the supposedly responsible adult, never should have let things get so out of control. As soon as the words "take it to the streets" left a student's mouth, the teacher should have shut that whole thing down immediately. What would Michael Jackson do, indeed—what the hell kind of "lesson" was that, anyway?

The kind that got a kid nearly blinded, as it turned out.

Everyone just stood around gawking—well, the New Directions just stood around gawking. The Warblers ran away like the chickenshits they were. Sam finally picked Blaine up and carried him to Kurt's car. Kurt thanked him and said he'd take him from there and didn't even let Sam go to the hospital with them.

Which...it wasn't like Sam _wanted_ to go to the hospital with them, except that he could have been helpful. Maybe someone would need to carry Blaine inside, and was Kurt really going to be able to do that? But...Kurt was taking him to the emergency room—they'd have stretchers and wheelchairs and stuff. And besides, there wasn't actually anything wrong with Blaine's _legs_. So...he knew it didn't matter that he wouldn't be there.

But he worried. He didn't sleep at all that night because he just kept thinking...what if Blaine went blind? It was entirely his fault. And Sebastian, of course—that guy was gonna pay, but...but if Sam hadn't started making out with Blaine that one night, then none of this would have happened.

He went over to Blaine's right after glee, cutting the rest of his classes for the day. He wouldn't have gone to school at all, but he didn't want the others wondering where he was.

An unpleasant thought occurred to him just as he was about to knock on the front door: What if Blaine's mom or dad or whoever was home with him mentioned to Kurt that he had come over? He stood back and studied the house, trying to figure out which window was the one to Blaine's room. It was on the second floor, but that was all he could remember for sure. He was trying to find an easy way to any of the second-floor windows when it dawned on him that he could just call and maybe Blaine could suggest a way in. Or tell him to go to hell and never speak to him again...you know, one or the other.

Blaine answered his phone with a panicked, "Who is this!?"

"Uh...it's Sam. I wanted to see if you're okay."

"Sam?" Blaine asked, confused.

"Yeah...I..."

"Oh, _Sam_! Sorry, I was asleep and when the phone rang I..."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come over."

"What, you're here? Hold on, I'll come let you in." He hung up before Sam could mention the part about not wanting Blaine's parents to see him.

Blaine, when he opened the front door, looked way different than any way Sam had seen him before. He had on gray boxers and a paint-stained Dalton t-shirt. His hair was unwashed and while there was gel in it, it was only what was left over from the day before, and his hair was misshapen and sticking out in odd places. One eye was covered with a patch and the other was glazed and unfocused. "You look like hell," Sam said.

Blaine smiled vaguely and said, "Yeah, well, I'm on a lot of pain meds."

"Then I guess I can let it slide that you're wearing the enemy's t-shirt."

Blaine squinted and tried to read the writing on his chest, upside down and one-eyed. "Shit," he said, peeling it off and chucking it onto a chair. "Come on upstairs."

"Wait." Sam lowered his voice and said, "Will your parents mention to Kurt that I was here, do you think?"

"My parents? They're not home, are they?" Blaine asked, as if Sam would know if he didn't. "What time is it?"

"A little before eleven."

"In the morning? No, they're not home. Why would they be?"

"Um, cause you're injured? And heavily medicated?"

Blaine laughed, and Sam wasn't sure if it was because he actually thought something he'd said was funny or if it was just the pain meds. "Can you, like, make it back upstairs on your own?"

"Yeah. Oh yeah, I'm fine," he insisted. Sam had actually kind of wanted to carry him, but instead he just followed him up the stairs, holding his arms out just in case Blaine should fall.

Blaine collapsed onto his bed and patted the spot next to him, so Sam sat there, turned mostly away from Blaine. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"At the moment? Not so much."

"Good meds?"

" _Really_ good meds." Blaine let his arms splay out, one of them landing in Sam's lap.

"I, um. God, Blaine, I'm so sorry." He took Blaine's hand and tried to hold back the tears that were waiting to fall. "I know you can probably never forgive me, and I don't deserve it, but I just want you to know that—"

"Wait. Forgive you for what?"

"For...for starting this whole... _thing_ between us. If we'd never...If _I'd_ never..." And yeah, he was crying now.

"Sam." Blaine pulled on Sam's arm until his head landed heavily on Blaine's chest. "By that logic it's Burt's fault for kicking us all out of the house."

"No, but..." Sam tried to control his stupid crying. "But Burt wasn't doing anything _wrong_..."

"Wait..." Blaine scrunched his forehead and closed his eyes—well, the one that wasn't covered by the patch anyway—and said, "Are you saying this is, like, cosmic retribution or something? That _Sebastian_ is an implement of divine justice?"

Sam buried his face in Blaine's chest and said, "I don't know. I just...I sorta feel like we should confess."

Blaine tensed and asked, "And then what?"

"And then..." Sam swallowed and forced himself to say out loud what he'd been thinking ever since the night at the Lima Bean: "And then we could be together openly? And honorably? Or at least more honorably than...than...you know."

Blaine didn't say anything for a while, and Sam couldn't bring himself to look at him. He was about to take it back, say he was only joking or something, when Blaine started stroking his hair. Sam didn't know what that meant, but it didn't seem like it could be too bad a sign, and besides it felt amazing and made him want to stay curled up with Blaine forever.

When Blaine did finally speak, he said, "Would you really want that? To date publicly? Or would you just, like, feel obligated or something?"

Sam placed his hand on Blaine's stomach, but he was still scared to look at him. "I don't know why you think I'd feel obligated. I really want to."

"So...you'd be willing to come out as...what? Bisexual?"

"Um...I guess I haven't thought about that part too much. I'm actually a lot more worried about people finding out what we did to Kurt and Mercedes, but...but I mean, I guess we deserve that, so..."

"So...you're saying I'm more to you than just an outlet for your sexual frustration?"

"That's what I'm saying, Blaine. And I mean, I can use my hand for that."

"Sam...that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Sam looked at him, finally, mostly out of surprise. He couldn't believe Kurt hadn't said way sweeter things than that. He saw that Blaine was starting to cry, which probably wasn't good for his injured eye, and so he scooted up and smoothed his hair and kissed him. It was a tentative kiss, because he was very aware that his admission of "feelings" hadn't been returned.

When Blaine kissed him back—not tentatively at all, but deeply and assertively—Sam took it as a reciprocal declaration.

Before he quite grasped what was going on, he was flat on his back with Blaine on top of him, pulling on his shirt. Blaine's shirt was already off, and Sam let his hands roam over his chest. He guessed he was bisexual, like Blaine said a few minutes ago, and he guessed he didn't care who knew it. Not if it meant getting to be with Blaine all the time. He lifted his head so Blaine could get the shirt off him, and Blaine caught him in another kiss.

Blaine kissed along his jaw, under his ear, and down his neck. By the time he got to Sam's collarbone he was grinding his erection against Sam's. Sam let his hands slide down Blaine's back and cup his ass, first over the boxers and then...tentatively...under. Blaine's ass was...the memory of being in it...well, he thought of it every single night. He didn't know if they were headed that way now but he hoped so, he really hoped so. He let a finger slide along Blaine's crack and rest outside his opening. "Blaine," he whispered, "can I...I mean, do you want me to..."

"Blow me first. You owe me a blowjob."

Not that Sam was averse to the idea, but he still had to ask, "I _owe_ you one?"

"Don't you remember? After I came you said you would've blown me and I said 'next time then' and you said 'okay.'"

Sam remembered saying he would've blown Blaine, which was what he had been planning to do. He didn't remember the rest of the conversation. "So...you've been planning on a next time?"

"Not planning. Hoping, I guess. On some level."

Sam smiled. "Me too." He pulled Blaine's boxers off and rolled them both over so he was on top.

"There's lube in my drawer," Blaine said, pointing, "if you want to, uh...I mean, one of us will have to..."

Sam slid over and pulled out the bottle. He teased the outside of Blaine's entrance with his slippery fingers and the length of Blaine's cock with his tongue. One of the actions, or maybe both, made Blaine gasp and arch. He licked all over Blaine's balls, then slowly up the shaft. Without removing his tongue from Blaine's cock he applied some more lube to his fingers, and as he sucked Blaine's cockhead slowly into his mouth, he simultaneously breached Blaine's hole and slid a finger inside. Blaine gasped again, and this time he added a "God, yeah..."

He developed a rhythm of fingering and sucking, the speed of which he increased only gradually. He really wanted Blaine to be stretched enough to take his cock by the time he came. He wanted to be able to fuck Blaine right away, and frankly he wasn't sure how he'd even held off this long—his cock ached, and it hadn't had contact with anything yet other than the inside of his own clothes.

And then he realized...yeah, he still really wanted to fuck Blaine more than anything, but he was also really into what he was doing. He really liked not just the whimpers and moans he was pulling from Blaine, but he liked his cock itself, he liked the way it felt in his mouth, he even liked the way it tasted. He wasn't just getting Blaine ready, and he wasn't just returning a favor.

As his sucking become more enthusiastic, so too did his finger fucking. And his grinding against the mattress, he realized. Blaine's steady moaning became broken, and he warned, "I'm gonna come, Sam!" Even as Sam pulled his mouth off and replaced it with his free hand he was thinking about how next time he might even be brave enough to let Blaine come in his mouth.

He wasn't that brave this time, but he was hugely turned on by hearing Blaine cry out in pleasure and watching his jizz shoot up onto his chest. Even better was the way Blaine's head was thrown back against the pillow, his neck arched at an impossible angle, his hair totally savage looking. And his flushed face, as it relaxed after his screams quieted, how blissful it looked... "You're gorgeous, Blaine."

Blaine panted out a weak laugh. "I've never been so wrecked."

"Exactly," Sam said. He moved up so he was half on top of Blaine and trailed a finger down the side of his face. "It's a good look for you."

Blaine reached for Sam and rubbed his bulge through his jeans. Sam jerked back at first out of surprise but then leaned into the touch, pressing himself harder against Blaine's hand. He sucked Blaine's earlobe into his mouth and whispered, "I wanna be inside you so bad."

"Yeah," Blaine said, unbuttoning Sam's jeans for him. "Yeah, fuck me, Sam."

Sam didn't waste any time pulling off the rest of his clothes. He applied some lube to himself and a little more to Blaine and asked if he was ready. Blaine answered enthusiastically that he was, but Sam remembered how he had hurt Blaine last time—totally without meaning to, obviously!—and so he was determined to go super slow this time and watch Blaine carefully for signs of discomfort.

Blaine spread his legs and pulled his knees up to his chest; Sam lay between them and kissed Blaine deeply as he lined himself up to enter his...his boyfriend? Almost? They should wait until they were official—or at least until it wouldn't be cheating—but he was way past the point of conceivably being able to stop, as long as Blaine wanted it too.

He breached him so carefully. Blaine let out just the tiniest gasp. Sam proceeded to push in slowly, so slowly, savoring the tight, warm flesh encasing him. He thought about how Kurt inexplicably didn't want to fuck Blaine. Well, maybe he had by now, but Sam liked to think not, that he was the only one Blaine given this part of himself to. Blaine was Sam's only for everything beyond fully clothed making out, and he wanted to be Blaine's only something.

Blaine began pushing his ass up, trying to get Sam deeper into him. It felt amazing—Sam wouldn't have minded holding still and letting Blaine just keep doing that, but he thought maybe it was a hint that he should be thrusting harder, so he did. And that was even more amazing—once he started thrusting in earnest some primal part of him just took over almost completely. He was still careful, though—he still watched Blaine to make sure he was all right.

And Blaine was all right, clearly. He moaned and bit his lip. He moved in rhythm with Sam. He grew hard again and started stroking his cock. When he said, "Harder, Sam, fuck me harder," Sam let the primal part take over completely and fuck Blaine with complete abandon. He fucked harder and harder until he accidentally slammed Blaine's head against the headboard.

He stopped moving. "Sorry! Are you—"

"It didn't hurt, don't stop."

"It had to hurt."

"I barely noticed it, really. C'mon, please."

Sam maneuvered them down toward the foot of the bed a little and propped and extra pillow against the headboard, just in case. Blaine rested his ankles on Sam's shoulders, and Sam started moving again. He really, really tried to be a little gentler this time, but when Blaine pleaded with him to please just hammer him...well, it was a request he couldn't resist fulfilling. He pounded and pounded and pounded and it was unbelievable. "Fuck...Blaine...awesome..." He barely knew what he was saying, just that he had to let Blaine know somehow how amazing he was.

"Yeah, give it to me," Blaine panted. Then, in a much higher voice, "God, you're gonna make me come again."

Sam beat him to it, his body seizing up the moment Blaine said the word come. A totally animalistic grunt came from deep in his throat as his cock burst and emptied inside Blaine's walls. And then Blaine came too, jerking under and around Sam and squeezing out every drop of his come. He sprayed his chest with a second coating of jizz, and Sam contemplated what it might taste like.

Blaine's muscles went slack all at once. His legs slipped off Sam's shoulders and onto the mattress, and he lay perfectly still except for his heavy breathing. Sam felt the same way Blaine looked; it was all he could do to roll over next to Blaine and rest his head on his boyfriend's (?) chest. That was how they fell asleep.

Blaine was the first to wake up, about an hour and a half later. It was the pain that woke him—he'd slept through his scheduled pain meds, and his eye was bothering him a lot. And his ass. He realized that he shouldn't have told Sam to fuck him quite so hard—the painkillers kept him from noticing at the time that it hurt.

Oh God! He'd let Sam fuck him again. He'd sworn to himself he'd never do that again—what the fuck was he thinking?

The fucking painkillers! They must've messed with his head; he must not have known what he was doing. They were really similar to alcohol, after all. And other drugs, probably, that he'd never used, but bad ones.

Fuck...what was it that Sam had been talking about? That they should confess? That Blaine should break Kurt's heart and reveal what a horrible, lying cheater he was, that they should make everyone hate them both? So that they could be together?

Blaine hadn't agreed, had he? He didn't think so...but he didn't think he had disagreed either. He should have disagreed. Fucking painkillers!

Because he _didn't_ want to break Kurt's heart, and he didn't want everyone to hate him and Sam. And he wasn't even sure he would want to be with Sam, like, as boyfriends. They barely knew each other, except for physically. And he had no reason to think it would work out even if he did want it. Why would Sam think he could handle being in a gay relationship that even their friends wouldn't support because of the cheating?

He scooted out from under Sam and started looking around for his underwear. Sam's eyes fluttered open and he said, "Hey, gorgeous."

"Sam, you can't call me that!" Not having found his boxers, he covered up by holding a pillow in his lap.

"Why?" Sam asked sleepily. "Your hair looks totally sexy like that."

Blaine instinctively touched his hair, realizing it must look the exact opposite of sexy. But that wasn't the point. "Sam, we can't...I hope you don't think..." He took a deep breath before starting over. "We can't ever do this again. We can't...Were you serious about wanting to confess? Because I can't. I don't want to, I mean, and I'm begging you not to..."

Sam looked fully awake now. Awake but crushed. "Yeah, I get it," he said slowly. A long pause followed before he continued, "You don't really want to be with me then?" He was almost looking Blaine in the eye when he said that, but not quite.

Blaine didn't even try to look like he was meeting Sam's eye. He played with a loose thread on his pillowcase and said, "It's not that I...I'm sorry if I...My pain meds! I barely knew what I was doing or saying."

"So I took advantage of you?" Sam gasped.

He sounded appalled, not that Blaine would accuse him of such a thing, but that he might have inadvertently done it. And Blaine didn't think he had—certainly not intentionally, and probably not really at all. "No, no!" Blaine assured him. "You couldn't have known, and it's not like...well, I do regret it, but I don't blame you at all."

"Blaine, I'm _so_ sorry. I—"

"No, no don't be. I enjoyed it, obviously. I remember telling you I wanted it, and I did, I totally did, I just...wasn't thinking clearly, I guess?"

"Still, I'm really sorry. I...I should probably go."

"No, don't...actually, yeah, that's probably best. Can we pretend this didn't happen?"

"Yeah. Sure." Sam got out of Blaine's bed and dressed as quickly as he could. "Feel better, okay? And...I guess I'll see you when you get back."

So it never happened. It was an easy enough thing to pretend, he guessed, at school and stuff. At home he found himself avoiding Kurt more than usual, though it wasn't like Kurt could possibly suspect anything. He was glad he didn't have to be around Blaine—that would have made the whole pretending thing a lot harder.

It would have been almost as hard as convincing himself it never happened. _That_ was tricky. But he did the best he could, and he amped up his determination to get Mercedes back, which seemed like the best route to forgetting. And it seemed to be working! He got her to kiss him on the stage after singing an MJ song together. And when their lips met he was barely thinking about what's-his-name at all.


	3. Spanish Teacher to Dance with Somebody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All-new chapter! After almost six years this story finally has a conclusion!

Sam thought for a second that Ms. Pillsbury had mixed up the pamphlets on accident: that she’d meant to give “So You’re a Two-Timing Ho” to _him_ and “So You’re Dating a Two-Timing Ho” to Mercedes. Luckily he remembered about Shane before he corrected her.

He probably should have, though, because…poor Mercedes! She didn’t deserve this. She _wasn’t_ a two-timing ho—it had just been one kiss! Now she was having to defend herself, having to tell Ms. Pillsbury that she didn’t sleep around. Boy, was that the truth! She had never slept with anyone.

Wait, had she? Was she sleeping with Shane? Just because she wouldn’t sleep with Sam when they were together…maybe she just wasn’t that into him.

He had been really into her. Was he still? Hadn't a lot changed since last summer?

He was starting to think that when he came back and found out she was seeing Shane, he should have just moved on. 

Moved on to what, though? That was the question. It wasn't like there was anyone else he was interested in who was available.

Anyway, Mercedes did want to be with him. She must, or she wouldn’t be at this couples therapy session with him. So it wouldn't be fair for Sam to have second thoughts now. They’d follow this no speaking plan and she would forget about Shane and he would forget about Blaine and they would be together and everyone would be happy.

XOXOXO

“Merce-….!” Sam was so surprised to see her at his front door that he almost forgot they weren’t allowed to speak. But if they couldn’t talk…why _was_ she here? To make out silently? Sam would be down for that, but it seemed sort of un-Mercedes-like.

Mercedes shifted a bag from one shoulder to the other and looked over Sam’s shoulder into the living room. Apparently she was planning to stick with the no talking rule. And it wasn’t _really_ a surprise that she didn’t make a move to kiss him or anything either. Instead she took out her phone and typed something, then stood there looking at the phone rather than at Sam until Kurt came down the stairs, already in pajamas even though it wasn’t late.

“Sam, why didn’t you invite Mercedes in?”

“Um, because I’m not allowed to talk to her.”

“Not allowed…?” Kurt looked at Mercedes questioningly. 

“Yeah, it’s just a…thing,” Mercedes answered.

“Oh, well, if it’s a _thing_ …” Kurt opened the door wide and gestured for Mercedes to come in. “Should I keep you two separate then? Mercedes, do you want to head upstairs while I wait for Rachel? She just texted that she’s almost here.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll get changed while you’re down here.” She climbed the stairs without making eye contact with Sam.

“Changed?” Sam asked when she was gone.

“We’re having a mini-pajama-party. Mercedes and Rachel are keeping me company while Blaine is out of commission.”

“Out of commission?” Sam asked, full of alarm. “You mean, like…sexually?”

“Good Lord, Sam,” Kurt said, his cheeks turning pink. “You do remember that he had to have surgery on his eye, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Some sort of horrible surgical mishap, that was the only thing Sam could think of that might have put Blaine “out of commission.” It wasn’t like he’d be contagious or anything. “What happened?”

“Honestly, Sam, you were there.”

“Yeah, but…” The doorbell rang, and Kurt opened it and let Rachel in without letting Sam finish his question. They made their way upstairs without another word to Sam or about Blaine.

Sam knew Mercedes wasn’t the only one he wasn’t supposed to talk to, but it was an emergency!

The phone rang a super long time. Sam was worried that meant that the surgery had done something really awful. 

Finally, though, Blaine answered.

“Blaine, thank God, Kurt said something happened during the surgery and then when you didn’t answer I was so freaked out!”

“What did he say happened during the surgery?”

“He left before I could get specifics, but he used the term ‘out of commission,’ so I figured it had to be bad. I mean, if you can’t…you know…” Sam did not like to think about Blaine and Kurt fucking, but that didn’t mean he wanted Blaine to not be able to. 

“No, I’m recovering fine.”

There was a silence, during which Sam realized that the reason Blaine had taken so long to answer was probably just that he didn’t want to talk to him. So he knew it was none of his business, but still he couldn’t help but clarify, “So you can still…you know? Or you will be able to? Not with me, obviously. I know that’s out of the question. I’d just feel really bad if you could never again with…anyone.”

The line was silent for several seconds before Blaine replied, “Sam, I hurt my _eye_.”

“So your…eye…was the only part of you that was affected?”

“Of course.”

“Thank God! And like you can still walk and sing and everything else?”

“Of course.”

“Thank God!”

“Well…” Blaine said. “Thanks for calling to check up on me.”

“But, like, what did ‘out of commission’ mean then? You and Kurt could still hang out, right?”

Again, there was silence. “We _could_ ,” Blaine said. “But, I mean, I am pretty tired most of the time. You know, from the surgery and the pain meds.”

“Oh. But you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, for sure. I mean, it’s nice to have a little quiet time to…you know, to think about stuff. You know, by myself.”

“Are you thinking about maybe…you and me?” Sam didn’t want to get his hopes up, but that was what was happening.

“No! _No_! If you must know, I’m thinking about how I’m going to face him, how I’m going to act like nothing happened. And…it’s nice that you were worried, but to tell you the truth, talking to you right now isn’t really helping me.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered into the phone, as if that were the sentence he most had to worry about someone overhearing. “I won’t bother you again.”

XOXOXO

It was working, the no talking thing! Ms. Pillsbury didn’t say anything about singing, and Mercedes sang right to Sam in glee. “I’ll open my heart and show you inside,” she sang. And: “I feel with you I’ve got nothing to hide.” And then some lines in Spanish that Sam didn’t understand, but he could tell they meant that she wanted him back.

And then Sam sang back to her, a totally romantic song. “I can be your hero,” he sang. He knew not everything he’d done in the past was especially heroic, but he could be better, and he would be better if she’d take him back. That was kind of what he was thinking when he sang the line, “Would you save my soul tonight?”—even though that was like a secret meaning that she obviously wouldn’t know about. Sort of like when he sang the line in Spanish “No tiene la culpa.” That meant “It isn’t your fault” (he was pretty sure), and he was glad he could say it in Spanish, which Mercedes didn’t speak any more than he did, and not have to explain what he meant by it. But even without the hidden-meaning lines, Sam could tell Mercedes loved the song. 

He waited until twelve o’clock on the day they were finally allowed to talk to her again. He saw her in the hall, they walked toward each other…and then Shane showed up and Mercedes left with him, without even a word.

Of course it hurt. 

And it was extremely frustrating. Sam had been doing everything he was supposed to…including staying away from Blaine, which was harder than it might seem, given that Blaine wasn’t even back at school yet.

Sam thought about giving up. Maybe Mercedes really was happier with Shane, and maybe there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe that was okay. Maybe it was a sign, even, that he was chasing the wrong person. Mercedes and Shane might be happy together, but Blaine and Kurt didn’t seem to be. 

Blaine never came over anymore, and sure his eye was fucked up and he probably couldn’t drive, but Kurt never went over to Blaine’s either. Sam never even heard them talking on the phone.

Maybe…

Valentine’s Day was coming up. Maybe Blaine would give him another chance.

But then Blaine started spamming Kurt with Valentines. Of course. And Kurt was so happy, and Sam didn’t actually want to hurt Kurt. Kurt had taken him in, after all. Well, Finn had invited him, but Kurt had done a lot more in terms of, like, cooking for him and stuff. Not _just_ for him, but for Finn and Burt and Carole too. He was a good guy. 

Sam didn’t have any such belief in Shane being a good guy. He totally ignored Mercedes in the lead-up to Valentine’s Day, for one thing, at least as far as Sam could tell. And, like…Sam didn’t necessarily think you had to be a Christian to be a good person. Like Kurt, for example—Sam couldn’t imagine Kurt going to hell just for not believing in God. But Mercedes’s faith was super important to her, so wouldn’t she be better off with someone who was also a Christian? Shane didn’t seem to be one. At least, if he was, it didn’t seem important to him like it was to Mercedes.

And so…well, Sam decided not to give up on trying to win Mercedes back after all.

The God Squad, that would be his in with her. _Shane_ wasn't a member. Plus…well, Sam thought the God Squad might do him some good personally, in terms of being a better Christian and a better person. 

Quinn came back to the God Squad, and it reminded him that he had forgiven her for cheating on him with Finn. It was the Christian thing to do: forgive people. That’s what he would tell Mercedes, if she knew there was anything to forgive him for. True, he hadn't taken Quinn back after she cheated, and she and Finn had only kissed, but the principle was the same.

It didn’t work, though, even after Sam gave her a romantic yet religiously themed Valentine’s Day present. She got his hopes up for a minute when she said that she’d told Shane about “us.” That meant there was an “us” to tell him about! Except there wasn't, because Mercedes felt too guilty about cheating on Shane, and she decided she didn’t deserve to be with either of them. Which meant she _probably_ wouldn't have been super forgiving if she'd known about Sam and Blaine, if by her own standards _she_ was a horrible cheater who didn't deserve to be with anyone.

XOXOXO

Blaine opened the front door slowly. “Sam. What are you doing here?”

Taking in the sight of Blaine in baggy sweatpants and a stained t-shirt, with hair not only ungelled but seemingly unwashed for as long as the stubble on his face had been growing, Sam forgot why he’d come and blurted out, “Are you all right? I know you’re not better enough to be back at school, but you look _terrible_.”

“Thanks,” Blaine said drily. “At least I know you’re not here to try to seduce me.”

The comment rendered Sam momentarily speechless. Would it have worked? He answered cautiously: “You told me we couldn’t do that again.”

“We can’t. If that’s not why you’re here, you can come in.” He pushed the door open further and stepped aside, letting Sam walk past him into the foyer.

Something was wrong with the way Blaine looked. Well, something besides the stuff he'd noticed at first, like something that _should_ have been wrong but wasn’t… “You’re not wearing the eye patch!”

“No, I don’t really need it anymore.”

“That’s great! Wait, why aren’t you back in school yet then?”

“Uh…because I haven’t really told my parents yet that my eye is fine? Don’t tell them, okay?”

“I don’t even know your parents.”

“Oh, right. Well, don’t tell Kurt, okay? Or…or anyone.”

“Sure, but…wait, I thought you guys were good.”

“We are!” Blaine quickly assured him. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I mean, all he talks about is how romantic the valentines you keep sending him are.”

Blaine blinked a ton then. His eye must have been still bothering him after all. He said, “Yeah, well. That’s me. Romantic.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. He wished someone would appreciate his romantic gestures. He wished someone would do romantic things for him. Someone like Blaine…he'd like someone like Blaine as either the doer or the appreciator of romantic gestures. 

God, now he was feeling all needy, and Blaine was looking all cute despite looking terrible, and Sam was probably going to screw up his resolve to not bother Blaine since he was happy with Kurt. Showing up at Blaine’s hoping for sympathy after Mercedes dumped him was probably the worst idea he'd ever had.

Blaine still had his hand on the doorknob. “So, uh…What’s up? What brings you by?”

“Oh, I just…” Sam tried to think of something plausible. “I just thought I’d see if you needed to borrow my class notes or anything. You know, so you’re not behind when you come back to school.” As soon as he said it he wanted to take it back, because not only did he not have any class notes with him, he didn’t have any class notes at all. He never took notes because when he used to try, he was never able to figure them out later anyway.

“Oh. Thanks, but Artie is sending me copies of his.”

“Not Kurt?”

“I have more classes with Artie.”

“Oh, right.” That reminded Sam, though: “Why don’t you want me to tell Kurt your eye is okay?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you want me to tell Kurt about your eye being better?”

“Oh. Sorry, I thought you said something else. Because, uh, I am planning to surprise him. At Sugar’s party. Make a big entrance, you know.”

“Oh. Cool, yeah. Kurt will love that. Don’t worry, I can totally keep a secret.” It wasn't like Sam trusted himself to talk to Kurt about Blaine anyway.

XOXOXO

Blaine expected to be yelled at after the party for being so neglectful that Kurt had to pretend to have gotten valentines from him. Maybe he’d even gone so far as to actually send some to himself—Blaine didn’t know. He hadn’t decided, when Kurt confronted him, whether he was going to blame his injury for his inability to go out and buy cards, or whether he was going to say something along the lines of, “You’re right, and we should talk about it.” 

What would he even say, though, if he took the latter option? Confessing everything…that would hurt Sam too, not just himself. And for what purpose?

But surely he owed Kurt _some_ explanation for why he’d been avoiding him.

Except Kurt didn’t yell. He didn’t mention the fake valentines at all.

It actually made Blaine wonder whether there was someone else. Like maybe someone from glee had seen a valentine some other guy had sent Kurt, and Kurt had panicked and claimed it was from Blaine.

He knew he could be just projecting. But…well, if Kurt had really been that hurt to not get a valentine, wouldn’t he have said something? 

Come to think of it, why hadn’t _Kurt_ sent _him_ a valentine? Blaine was the one at home convalescing, after all. Maybe Kurt was having mixed feelings about their relationship too. They should probably talk about it, if that was the case. But then how would Blaine explain how he even knew about the fake valentines in the first place? He couldn’t very well tell Kurt about Sam coming over to his house. 

So he just said nothing and went on acting like everything was fine, just like Kurt was doing—though he actually had no idea whether Kurt was _acting_ or not.

XOXOXO

Disco week. 

Why? 

Well, who knew? And anyway, what Mr. Schue was thinking when he made it the week’s theme turned out to be one of the least confusing aspects of the whole week for Sam. 

One confusing thing—or surprising, anyway—was that Sam discovered he didn’t actually hate disco...at least not when Blaine was dancing to it. Just look at him, Jesus. Like, did anyone else see when he jumped up and touched his toes in mid-air? How was there not a riot when he did that? Or was Sam maybe the only one whose mind went to places it probably shouldn’t go when Blaine’s legs were spread wide like that?

Mercedes was amazing too. Her performance didn’t fill him with lust like Blaine’s did, though. Well, it _did_ , let’s be honest…that red dress that showed off all her curves? Damn. But lust wasn’t his _main_ feeling watching her. He mainly felt sad…guilty, really…that he'd fucked things up with her. 

They were never going to be able to be together again now, but that wasn’t even the worst part. Sam had also fucked things up between Mercedes and Shane, but that wasn’t the worst part either. He didn’t even think that part was _that_ bad, honestly, because Shane seemed like kind of an asshole, and anyway Mercedes didn’t seem that upset about the breakup. Then again, he probably wasn’t the one she would confide in if she were, so he probably shouldn’t totally let himself off the hook. But even so, the _worst_ part was that he’d made Mercedes feel like _she_ was a cheater.

In fact…well, it was just a kiss, so it wasn’t that bad. But then again, all Quinn had done with Finn was kissing and Sam had dumped her for that, so if you looked at it that way, then Mercedes _did_ cheat. But even if it _was_ cheating, it was Sam’s fault that she'd done it. And yet she was getting all the blame, even though he had cheated on her way worse.

Sam was pretty sure that if Mercedes’s self-esteem weren’t all messed up thanks to him, she wouldn’t be doubting her own singing talent, of all things, saying that maybe outside of glee club she wasn’t cream that would rise to the top but just skim milk. What bullshit! Maybe if he confessed, she would see that…

Of course, if he confessed, it would hurt Blaine. And Kurt. And Sam himself! He knew he deserved it, but he also knew he needed a place to live. And if the skim milk thing turned out not to be related to the cheating thing, then confessing wouldn’t even help Mercedes anyway. 

But what _could_ help Mercedes, Sam thought, and what definitely wouldn’t hurt Blaine or Kurt or Sam himself, was to post a video of Mercedes singing on YouTube so she could see that no one—even outside of McKinley—thought she was just skim milk.

And it worked! Hundreds of people watched her on YouTube, and they all loved her! And Mercedes was so happy when he showed it to her! 

He hadn’t done it to try to win her back. He had finally accepted that it was really over between them. So…why did he go in for a kiss? Sam had no idea, and he was the one who did it. 

_That_ was the most confusing thing about disco week.

Actually, no. Why he kissed her was the second-most confusing thing. 

The _most_ confusing thing was why she kissed him back.

The kiss was…well, Sam had no idea how it was. His brain was racing too fast trying to process what was going on. When they pulled apart, all he could think to say was, “So…are we…”

“I don’t know what we are, Sam,” Mercedes said. She was looking at him, sort of, but not in the eye. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before.”

“Well, you deserve it,” he assured her. “So…you’re just grateful about the video? Or…”

Mercedes sighed. “I don’t know. But…maybe you could come over for dinner?”

“Over? Like, to your house?”

“Yeah. My dad is going to fire up the grill tomorrow night. I can ask him to get an extra steak, and...”

“Oh…” Oh, _shit!_ How had Sam not even thought, in all the time he was trying to get back together with Mercedes, about the problem of her dad? Her dad, who had seen Sam and Blaine making out while Sam was still dating Mercedes! Her dad, who had made it very clear that he would _not_ welcome Sam back into his house or into his daughter's life!

“Don’t worry about the cost. My dad knows where to get good deals on steak.”

“Yeah, but…but still, it’s gotta be expensive.” Sam was tempted to ask if she’d mentioned to her parents that he had been trying to get her back all this time. But she must not have, right? Because then her dad would have told her about the making out with Blaine thing, and Mercedes would not have kept info like that to herself.

“No, it’s really no—“

“Also, I’m pretty sure it’s my night to cook tomorrow for, you know, Kurt and Finn and everyone.”

“Kurt lets you cook?”

“So, thanks, but…I have to take a raincheck.” And then he got the hell out of that classroom before she could ask him any more questions or invite him for a different night.

And apparently he fucked things up again, because Mercedes went back to basically not talking to him the next day. But, given her dad and everything else, that was probably for the best after all.

XOXOXO

“This song is for anyone who’s ever been cheated on.” 

Sam wasn’t sure he heard right. But everyone around him was gasping, so…

God, was Blaine really going to sing his confession in front of the whole glee club? Was he going to say who he cheated _with_? It would be a relief in a lot of ways, but…

Wait, did Kurt just say super defensively, “I didn’t cheat on you”? Is the song about _Kurt_ cheating on _Blaine_? Kurt just said he didn’t, but…the lyrics were definitely from the cheated-on person’s point of view. And Blaine was definitely directing them at Kurt.

Sam couldn’t believe it. What the hell had Kurt done!? 

Blaine sang: “Pack your bags up and leave. Don’t you dare come running back to me”!!

He was…he was really breaking up with Kurt?

Of course he was; just look how devastated he was. How could anyone hurt poor Blaine like that? What an asshole Kurt was! 

Sam wondered about the other guy. Was it the guy Kurt had been texting in glee club the other day? How long had he and Kurt been fucking? Was he not the only one? Fucking asshole!

XOXOXO

Blaine fully expected it to be Kurt at his front door. He fully expected Kurt to try to apologize. But, no, apparently Kurt didn’t even care enough to _try_ to get him back.

Like an idiot, Blaine started crying right in front of Sam. He let Sam wordlessly wrap him in a tight embrace. He let Sam kiss the top of his head. He let Sam rock him back and forth until he was able to stop sobbing.

“You and Kurt are really through?” Sam asked. He loosened his grip on Blaine a little but was still holding him.

“I guess so,” Blaine said. “He hasn’t even tried to call me or _text_ me all day, so…” Blaine shrugged, as if he didn’t care.

“What an asshole!” Sam said. “Uh, can I come in?”

Blaine took a step back, breaking Sam’s hold. Only halfway joking, he repeated what he’d asked the last time Sam had shown up unexpectedly on his doorstep: “Are you here to seduce me?”

Sam hesitated. “I can’t lie and say I don’t want to. But you _just_ broke up with Kurt, and you’re all emotional and stuff, and I don’t want to take advantage of you again, God, I felt terrible about that, I didn't realize about the meds, but it's no excuse! Anyway...I just came by to see if you need to talk, I guess.”

“I’m sorry I said that, Sam.”

“Sorry you said what?”

“You didn’t take advantage of me. I know I said I only did it because of my pain meds, but…I mean, that was basically bullshit. I wanted to. I wasn’t thinking clearly in some ways, like I couldn’t concentrate on my calculus homework, but I knew that I wanted to do that with you. I’m sorry I tried to pretend I didn’t.”

Sam let out a deep breath. “Oh my God, that is such a relief.”

“I should have told you before.”

“Yeah. I would have slept better. But I’m glad you told me now.”

Blaine remembered that Sam had asked to come in. “Come on in. You can leave your shoes here,” he said, moving to the side and indicating a spot where several pairs of shoes were neatly lined up.

“So you’re not mad that I’m here?” Sam asked, even as he walked into the foyer and removed his sneakers without bending down. “And you want to talk about…about Kurt and your break-up and everything?”

“I’m not mad, but…”

Sam waited. “But?”

“But I don’t really want to talk about Kurt.”

“Oh. Yeah, I understand. I’ll just…” Sam glanced back at the door.

“Maybe you don’t understand. I don’t want to talk, but I would like it if…” Blaine pushed out everything in his head that was telling him not to complete that sentence. “I would like it if you _were_ here to seduce me.”

Sam took a step forward, reached toward him…and then stopped. “Really?”

Blaine looked at Sam’s hand, mere inches away, and not at Sam’s face. “Please don’t make me say it again,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Sam pressed his lips together and closed the distance between them. He touched a thumb to Blaine’s left cheek and wiped away the tears, then repeated the action on the right side. Blaine instinctively closed his eyes and felt Sam’s fingers brush across his whole face, over his ears, and onto the back of his neck. Sam’s lips touched his, so tenderly, and Blaine was filled with a desire to forget everything and everyone else and just be Sam’s.

He didn’t know how long they stood there kissing gently, how long until gently turned to urgently. Sam’s hands somehow went from resting on the back of Blaine’s neck to roaming his back to holding his ass. Blaine found himself gripping Sam’s ass too, gripping it and trying to pull Sam closer to himself, although there already was literally no space between them. 

Finally, just when Blaine didn’t think he could stand it anymore, Sam removed his lips from Blaine’s long enough to speak softly into his ear: “Bedroom?”

“Too far,” Blaine answered. “Couch.”

Blaine somehow managed to get Sam’s shirt off while walking backwards into the living room and never fully breaking contact with Sam. Blaine’s own button-up shirt and vest were a little trickier to remove than Sam’s t-shirt, but between the two of them they managed it before Blaine lay down and pulled Sam on top of him. 

Sam kissed his neck, sucked on it, in fact, just the way that drove Blaine crazy, and Blaine didn’t even give a thought to whether he was going to have a mark there. But Sam didn’t stop at his neck, he kept moving down, licking and kissing Blaine’s collar bone, his chest, his nipples, his belly button. Finally he sat up, straddling Blaine’s thighs, and looking Blaine in the eyes while tentatively placing his hands on Blaine’s belt buckle. It felt like a question, and Blaine nodded in response and added, “Please, Sammy.”

It was a little awkward, getting Blaine’s pants and underwear off without fully getting off of him, but Sam managed it. He gave Blaine one last questioning look, and Blaine just mouthed the word _please_. 

Sam scooted back a little, and Blaine felt a sharp pain in his knees. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it because it was really a minor thing, considering, but he must have grimaced or something because Sam got off him then…but only as far as the floor, thank God. He knelt next to the couch and stroked Blaine’s chest with one hand. It was the other hand Blaine was most focused on, though: the one that started on his knee and was moving slowly up his thigh. Blaine couldn’t see the hand from his position on his back, but he could see Sam’s face, see Sam watching his own hand with rapt attention as it moved ever closer to Blaine’s dick.

It was still kind of a shock, even after the agonizingly long lead-up, when Sam’s fingertips finally brushed over Blaine’s balls. Sam stroked his shaft very, very lightly, and then he leaned down and kissed the tip of it, almost…almost reverently at first. 

Soon he was kissing and licking in earnest, not lightly anymore, and certainly not tentatively. Blaine—if he’d had doubts in the past about Sam was really okay with touching another guy’s junk or if he’d freak out about it—didn’t have any such doubts now. He let his head fall back and he closed his eyes and said, “ _God_ , Sam.”

“Mm?” Sam asked, mouth still attached to Blaine’s cock.

“No, nothing,” Blaine said quickly, hoping to prevent Sam from stopping so he could answer. “Just…God, that’s so good.” _Why have we been wasting so much time not doing this?_ he wondered. He was glad he didn’t say it out loud because Sam might not have taken it as a rhetorical question, and, yeah, he knew there were reasons—he briefly thought about Kurt, but…but Kurt hadn’t done this in a really long time, or vice versa, and so why _wasn’t_ he doing it with Sam all the time? Anyway, he really didn’t want to think about all that right now, not when…oh, God, Sam had his dick inside his mouth and was really sucking it now.

Blaine needed to touch Sam too. He reached out and ran his fingers through Sam’s hair. Sam moaned around his dick and pressed his head into Blaine’s hand. He never stopped sucking, and he was stroking Blaine’s balls and the base of his dick, and Blaine could hardly stand it, it was so good. Sam made another noise, not a moan this time, and Blaine realized he’d started pulling his hair, so he moved his hand away and took Sam’s other hand, the one on Blaine’s chest, and laced their fingers together.

When Sam made that noise again, Blaine realized he was squeezing his fingers too tight now. And when he realized he couldn’t _stop_ squeezing his fingers too tight, he knew he was about to come. He imagined how great it would be to come in Sam’s mouth, but Sam wouldn’t want that. “Sam,” he said, “Sam, I’m…” He couldn’t get the words out, so he tried to nudge Sam’s head away. Sam just sucked harder, though, and really jerked him, and Blaine couldn’t help it, he yelped and started to unload in Sam’s mouth. He was vaguely aware that he was pulling Sam’s hair kind of hard, but he couldn’t help that either, it was all he could do not to fuck up into Sam’s throat.

He loosened his grip on Sam’s hair as the intensity of the orgasm wore off. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Sam pulled away, and Blaine opened his eyes to see him leaning across the rug to grab his t-shirt, which he used to spit Blaine’s come into and wipe off his tongue. “It’s okay,” Sam said, running his own hand across his hair where Blaine had pulled it. “It kinda hurt, but it was also kinda hot.”

“Oh. But also I’m sorry I came in your mouth.”

“No, don’t be. I wanted you to.”

“But…you just spit it out.”

“Yeah, sorry. I guess it’s a taste I still have to acquire.”

“So…you want to keep…”

“Yeah. Of course….Do you? I mean, I know I’m not great at it yet, but with more practice…”

“You’re already really good at it.”

Sam smiled, like he was surprised by the compliment and also really proud. “Really? So…yeah?”

“So…you know what I really want?”

Sam started to say something, but Blaine supplied the answer himself: “I want you to fuck me.”

Sam looked…he didn’t look as pleased with the answer as Blaine expected him to be. He actually looked kind of disappointed. Blaine was confused. “Wait, what were you saying when I said I want you to fuck me?”

“Nothing. The same thing, actually. I was going to say, ‘Do you want me to fuck you?’”

“I want that more than anything right now.” 

“Do you have any…”

“Upstairs.”

Blaine gathered their clothes off the floor and led them to his room. He’d no sooner closed the door than Sam turned him around, backed him up against the bedroom door, and kissed him deep and slow. Blaine heard himself whimper once or twice.

They gradually made their way to the bed, not separating until they reached it, and even then not fully, just enough for Blaine to sit on the edge and help Sam out of his jeans. Sam had on cotton, heather-gray boxer briefs, just ordinary, everyday underwear, but something about the way they clung to him, about the way they had to stretch to contain his hard-on, made Blaine almost want Sam to leave them on. He mouthed at that hard-on right through the fabric, and this time Sam was the one who whimpered a little bit.

Of course Blaine couldn’t stand for Sam to leave them on _too_ long, and when he slid them down to Sam’s knees and saw that cock standing there so big and tall, God, he couldn’t help himself. He licked a line straight up from the base, then wrapped his lips around the head and slid his mouth back down, sucking it in as far as he could. He loved its taste and its feel, the warmth, the slipperiness it got from his spit on it. He loved the soft gasps Sam made from time to time and the feeling of Sam’s fingers pressing into his shoulders. 

It wasn’t until the gasps turned into a near-steady moan and the grip on his shoulders got almost painfully tight that Blaine realized he had to stop before he made Sam come. He would have liked to make Sam come in his mouth, actually, but even more than that he wanted Sam to fuck him.

Sam let out a short whine of disappointment when Blaine stopped. “I need to get the lube,” Blaine explained.

Blaine couldn’t help but notice, as he got the bottle from the drawer, that it was as full as the last time he and Sam had done this. He and Kurt hadn’t needed it even once in the meantime. Well, they had fucked once at Kurt’s, after Valentine’s Day, but that was it. He should have recognized that as a sign that Kurt wasn’t interested in him anymore. He should have—

“Can I? Sam asked, reaching for the bottle and interrupting Blaine’s musings on what had gone wrong with him and Kurt. Well, he’d have time to think that through later; right now he had someone here who actually really wanted to fuck him. 

He handed the lube over and lay face-down on the bed. Sam placed both hands on his ass, but he didn’t go for his hole right away. Instead, he started kissing up his thigh. It was unexpected and just really nice. It wasn’t what Blaine expected, but as surprises went it was firmly in the "pleasant" category, and he sighed softly into his pillow. Then Sam’s mouth was on his ass, and if Sam was going to rim him that would _really_ be unexpected. But then, Sam willingly getting come in his mouth was unexpected too, so…

Sam didn’t rim him. 

Blaine was only a little disappointed. He’d never actually been rimmed before, but the guys in porn who had it done to them seemed to really, really like it. But he wasn’t _too_ disappointed, because Sam’s fingers were awesome too. He started out gentle and not too fast, like he wasn’t in any hurry, which was sweet, since Blaine was pretty sure he’d been on the verge of blowing his load a couple minutes ago.

Blaine himself shouldn’t have had to blow another load…he shouldn’t have even been able to get hard again for quite some time. But Sam was kissing his back and his neck, and his fingers were moving in him just right, slippery from the lube but still just the tiniest bit rough, and soon Blaine needed more than fingers inside him. He pulled his knees up under him, raising his ass higher for Sam, and said, “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Please.”

Sam kneaded his butt cheeks with both hands. He pressed his dick right up against him, right along his crack, but he didn’t put it in yet. Blaine pressed back against him, a little impatiently. Sam rubbed his back and then asked tentatively, “Just…could we do it the other way?”

“Other way?” Wait, Sam didn’t suddenly want to bottom, did he? 

“Like, could you turn on your back?”

“Oh! Oh, sure.” Blaine flipped over and pulled his knees up to his chest.

Sam looked down at Blaine’s crotch, his balls and his once-again hard dick and his open and waiting hole, with nothing but lust. He quickly got into position between Blaine’s legs and pressed the tip of his cock up against Blaine’s entrance. He pushed in, slowly, and his gaze moved to Blaine’s face—he locked eyes with him, and the lust was there still, and something else too, something Blaine couldn't identify but somehow found potentially overwhelming.

He closed his eyes. Sam’s cock was slowly filling him, and that was all he cared about. He felt his walls stretch as he took more and more of Sam in. It was the best feeling, better even than when Sam sucked him off downstairs. It was perfect.

Sam stopped pushing in, and Blaine could only surmise that it was because it was impossible to go farther. He definitely didn’t feel like he could _take_ any more. 

He felt Sam’s breath against his face, followed quickly by lips against his own. Sam’s mouth tasted amazing. The taste of Blaine’s come probably wasn’t _actually_ still on his tongue, but…but something about just knowing that it had been there just a short time ago was just so hot that it made Blaine want to run his tongue over the entire inside of Sam’s mouth.

Sam was moving in him again, fucking him the same way he kissed him: deep and slow. Slow, but not soft. Sam kept hitting that spot deep inside Blaine, over and over and over. Each time the spot got slammed into, the tension built a little more inside Blaine, pushed him that much closer to his climax…He got to a point where he desperately wanted to jerk himself off, yet he hated the thought of this being over.

Just as Blaine was feeling like he might overload soon, Sam let out a little whine. “You okay?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah, I’m just…” Sam paused to bite his lower lip. “I’m just trying really hard not to come too soon…I mean, I was really hoping you could come too while I was still…But…” He bit his lip again.

“I can’t hold off much longer either,” Blaine admitted, giving in and working his hand in between his body and Sam’s. 

Sam shifted to give Blaine room. The new, more upright position was even better, it allowed Sam to nail him even harder and even deeper. Faster, too, he was pounding him faster now. And Blaine was jerking himself fast, and then Sam’s hand was nudging his out of the way, and Sam’s hand felt way, way better than his own. 

“Blaine…I’m gonna…”

“Oh, _God_...” Blaine's cry turned to an inarticulate gravelly noise that hurt his throat as he made it, but he didn't care and couldn't have stopped if he had cared. Sam’s dick felt huge—huger than it already had, like it was growing—and Blaine could feel it pulsing inside him. And then Sam’s load shot into him, and Blaine could actually feel it, could actually feel the hot, think liquid firing inside his ass. 

It made him come even harder, even longer.

Eventually his orgasm subsided, and he took some much-needed breaths in, and he felt Sam’s cock slip out of him. He thought about how slippery he must be from all the jizz, and that thought alone would have made him hard again if that were physically possible so soon. Kurt never let him come inside his ass like that. He always insisted on condoms, even though neither of them had ever been with anyone else. Well, at the time Kurt started letting him fuck him, anyway.

Jesus, why was he thinking about Kurt right now? Kurt almost definitely wasn’t thinking about _him_.

“You’re so amazing, baby,” Sam said, looking so relaxed and content. Sleepy, almost.

“Are you going to fall asleep?” Blaine asked.

“No, no, I’m fine. Unless…unless you want to take a little nap together?”

“Uh…” It probably wasn’t a good idea—his parents would be home at some point—but now that he thought about it, he _was_ pretty damn sleepy himself, no doubt from the combination of barely having slept the night before and, you know, whatever the sleepiness-inducing post-sex chemicals were called. “Yeah. Maybe for a few minutes.”

XOXOXO

It was already getting dark out when Sam woke up, curled around Blaine big spoon style. He kind of had to pee, but he just felt so warm and happy, and Blaine smelled really good. A little fruity, from whatever he put in his hair, but mostly like...well, like someone he was falling in love with. 

It was probably better not to tell Blaine that so soon after his break-up literally the same day, in fact. Sam had moved too fast with girls before when it came to declaring his feelings, and he didn’t want to make the same mistake with guys. Well, with guy. There was only one guy he was falling in love with.

He snuggled up closer to Blaine, wrapped his arm around him a little tighter, and gently kissed the back of his neck. He only meant to kiss him once, but he really liked doing it and so he did it again. And then again.

Blaine mumbled something unintelligible, still half asleep. Then he jerked fully awake. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“What time is it? My mother will be home soon! She can’t find us here like this!”

Sam thought it was weird that Blaine thought his mother might actually burst into his bedroom—like, were there mothers of teenage guys who actually did that?—but Blaine hopped out of bed and got dressed and basically threw Sam’s clothes at him and shooed him out of the house so fast that Sam didn’t even have time to ask to use the bathroom, much less ask how Blaine ever even managed to jerk off if his mother might interrupt him at any time.

He had to stop at McDonalds on the way home to use the restroom, and he decided to get a burger there too. It was super unhealthy and he knew he shouldn’t, but if he didn’t eat something now he’d have to eat something at home, and if he ate something at home he might run into Kurt in the kitchen, and that just seemed like a bad idea because he was so fucking mad at Kurt right now for cheating on Blaine, and yet if he lashed out he might not be able to keep staying with the Hummels anymore... _especially_ if he let it slip that he had fucked Blaine, and not just today.

Kurt couldn’t be mad about today, not really, because he and Blaine were broken up, and anyway he had cheated first.

Except…Kurt actually hadn’t cheated _first_. At least not to Sam's knowledge.

Sam actually could manage not to yell at Kurt, he decided as he ate his gross, greasy burger and tried to ignore the crusty feeling of dried come on his t-shirt. Honestly, he should be thanking Kurt for finally giving Blaine a reason to dump him that didn’t make Blaine the bad guy. 

And about that, Sam had managed not to let on to anyone about it so far, so there was no reason he wouldn’t be able to keep keeping it to himself. 

The only real question was whether he should tell Kurt yet about him and Blaine being together…

No. No, he decided he should wait. Blaine hadn’t even said yet that they were together. Sam hadn’t asked, in fact. He’d been about to, but then Blaine thought Sam was going to say he wanted to fuck him, and Sam _did_ want to fuck him, and so they’d done that rather than talk. And then afterwards Blaine had been so worried about his mom, so…so, yeah, it was best not to say anything to Kurt at all tonight. 

He went straight to his room in the basement when he got home and jerked off a couple times to the very recent memory of fucking Blaine. While he was trying to be quick (not a problem, really) and listen for the door in case anyone decided to come downstairs to do laundry or something, he thought about how that was apparently something he had in common with Blaine that he didn’t know about before: logistical difficulties in jerking off. He wondered what else they had in common that they didn’t know about yet but would soon discover, and thinking about that made him happy.

XOXOXO

Kurt didn’t call that night. Blaine wasn’t sure if he would have answered if he had, but the question was moot. So he really was single now, he guessed. 

Maybe Sam…

But, no, Sam didn’t like him like that. Blaine had almost fooled himself for a minute, but Sam was just…horny. A little bi apparently, but, like, for sex. For a relationship what he really wanted was a girlfriend. Specifically, Mercedes.

Blaine couldn’t sleep that night. How had he fucked everything up so badly? He probably shouldn’t have freaked out so much about Kurt cheating on him. Not when he himself had actually…

But then, wasn’t emotional cheating worse? Like, Kurt was clearly thinking of this Chandler guy as some sort of boyfriend. He was planning to reenact the end of _The Way We Were_ with him, for fuck’s sake. Blaine hadn’t actually seen that movie and didn’t know how it ended, but it was probably something romantic, right? Kurt obviously wanted to be with someone who had movies like that memorized. And someone who would be in New York with him and not still in high school in fucking Ohio.

Anyway, Kurt was probably _glad_ Blaine had freaked out and broken up with him.

 _Had_ Blaine actually broken up with him? It was through song, so…did that count? 

Well, it must have, because Kurt hadn’t even bothered to say anything to him afterward. Not even, like, “You didn’t really mean the ‘Pack your bags up and leave’ line, did you?” Not even, like, “I’m sorry.”

Sam, though. Sam had been the only one who cared if he was okay.

Sam just wanted to get laid, Blaine reminded himself.

Not that Blaine didn’t want the same. Obviously. Sex with Sam was, like, mind-blowingly good. He just wished…

Well, whatever. Why obsess over something he could never have? At least if he was single, he and Sam could fuck as much as they wanted.

He really wanted Sam to keep fucking him.

Almost as much as he wanted a real boyfriend.

He remembered one of the other lines in that breakup song he’d sung: “I’d rather be alone than unhappy.” Did he mean that? He _wanted_ to mean it. He _should_ mean it. But…

And then he was back to how maybe he shouldn’t have freaked out like he did about Kurt and Chandler. So, yeah, his thoughts kept going around and around like that all night.

He was still very mixed up when Kurt—who still hadn’t bothered trying to talk to him—sang to him in glee club in the morning. That is, he sang for the whole club, but it was obviously directed at Blaine. Kurt even pointed at him, which normally might have annoyed Blaine if it meant Kurt was actually taking Cooper’s ridiculous advice, but in his overemotional, sleep-deprived state, what really registered with Blaine was that Kurt _did_ want him back. So now Blaine had to rethink _everything_.

Blaine ran out of class before Kurt or anyone else could talk to him. He wasn’t ready, he didn’t know what to say when Kurt asked him…Kurt _was_ going to ask him to take him back after all, it seemed. Or _had_ asked, if asking through song counted.

Blaine just didn’t know yet how he should answer.

He just barely managed to keep it together and act normal, until after gym. Puck had given him and all the other guys shot glasses, and in an illustration of how little thought he’d put into the gesture, Blaine’s said “Drink till she’s cute.” But it was just Puck, so Blaine didn’t break down or anything. 

It was after that, when everyone was dressed in their normal clothes again and getting ready to go to their next class. Everyone was walking out, and Sam said, “Blaine! Can you hold up a minute?”

Blaine nearly panicked. Sam wasn’t going to give something away in front of everyone, was he? He couldn’t, not when Blaine hadn’t even decided yet what he wanted to do! But then Sam elaborated: “Maybe you want to trade shot glasses?” and of course, Sam just wanted the one about cute girls!

But, no, that was just a pretext, it turned out. 

As soon as the other guys were gone, Sam said, “Can you believe Kurt had the nerve to sing that song today!?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I _mean_?” Sam asked incredulously. “Instead of apologizing, he had the nerve to tell _you_ : ‘Don’t you dare walk away from me!’ And that whole thing about how he supposedly has nothing if he doesn’t have you! I mean, yeah, maybe it’s true, but maybe he should have thought about that before he started fucking that other guy!”

“He, uh…he didn’t actually fuck the other guy.”

“Right, right. _Got fucked by_ that other guy. I mean, I guess at least he’s not willing to do with some other guy stuff he isn’t willing to do with you.” Although they were alone, Sam lowered his voice to add, “I still don’t understand why he doesn’t want to fuck you, though, because it’s honestly amazing.” Then he was quiet for a minute while he had this look on his face like he was thinking about the two of them fucking, and of course Blaine thought about for a minute two and felt his face blush at the recollection, and then Sam concluded in his normal-level voice: “But letting the other guy fuck him is almost just as bad!”

“But I mean...there wasn't any fucking.”

“Oh. Like, just oral and stuff?”

“No, like…just texting and stuff.”

“Oh.” It was dead quiet in the locker room for several seconds, until the door opened and a couple guys from next hour’s gym class started walking in. Sam had apparently thought of another question at just that moment. “But so like—“

“Can we talk later?” Blaine cut him off, glancing at Jacob Ben Israel, who now almost at his locker.

Sam looked at Jacob and then back at Blaine. “Yeah. Sure.” In a near-whisper, he added, “Just…whatever happened that made you so…I mean, he did _something_. And has he even apologized?” He left without waiting for an answer.

The question did make Blaine wonder, though. He hadn’t really been listening to the words of Kurt’s song that carefully, and, not being as huge a Whitney Houston fan as some of his fellow glee clubbers, he didn’t know all her songs by heart, so he Googled the lyrics. 

Sam was right: there was nothing resembling an apology in that song.

XOXOXO

Sam found Blaine at his locker at the end of the day. “Can we finish talking now?” Blaine looked like he was scared someone was going to see them, so Sam added, “I already looked. No one from glee is around.”

Blaine relaxed a little. “Yeah. Yeah, of course we can talk. Just, let’s go…” He started looking around again.

“Come with me.” Sam took Blaine’s hand and led him around the corner. He hadn’t really thought about it before doing it, but holding Blaine’s hand felt really nice. He hoped he’d be able to do it all the time soon, in front of people even. 

He took Blaine to the art room. No one else from glee even took art, and Sam knew that the teacher wouldn’t be there because she was out sick today. 

Now that Sam had Blaine alone, he wasn’t sure how to start. As it turned out, Blaine started first: “I’ve been thinking about what you said in the locker room, and you’re right.”

“About how fucked up that song was that Kurt sang?”

“No. I mean, yes, but that’s not what I was talking about.” Blaine picked up a watercolor brush and started twisting the bristles. “I was talking about when you said that texting isn’t really cheating.”

“I didn’t say that,” Sam objected. Blaine just gave him a look like he wasn’t buying the denial at all, and Sam admitted, “I did think it was kind of weird that you were so upset about Kurt texting with some guy. Because, I mean, you and I actually…And not just after you guys broke up yesterday. But...”

“Right. I know. And we shouldn’t have. I know that, obviously.”

“Mmm,” Sam said. He knew cheating was wrong and everything, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say that he and Blaine shouldn’t have done it, because what if it ended up being the thing that brought them together? Then it would be worth it.

“But what Kurt and this Chandler guy did was also cheating.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed. He didn’t know any of the details, but he was totally willing to believe Blaine if he said it counted as cheating.

“And in fact it was _worse_ than what I did with you.”

“Uh…” Sam probably should have just agreed again, but he really wasn’t following now. 

“Because it was _emotional_ cheating! Because he really _likes_ this guy!”

The implication was clear. “You don’t like me?” Sam hated how small his voice sounded, but that was how it came out.

“I mean, of course I _like_ you, Sam.” Blaine touched Sam’s forearm, just brushed his fingers over it really, and Sam hated that he liked that _so_ much, given that he had a pretty good idea now where Blaine was going with this thought. Sure enough, Blaine went on: “I just mean that Kurt _like_ -likes this guy, as we used to say in junior high. Like as a boyfriend.”

“Right,” Sam muttered.

“Whereas with you and me—“

“No, I get it.” Sam didn’t need to hear Blaine actually say out loud that he could never have real feelings for someone like him.

“I’m not excusing what we did. But, well, maybe I am just a _tiny_ bit. I mean, with us it was only about sex.”

“Right.” That wasn't all it was about for him, not even close, but he couldn't very well say so now. “Plus, Kurt won’t even fuck you.”

“Plus Kurt won’t even fuck me,” Blaine agreed. “Again, not that it makes cheating okay.”

So that was how Blaine really felt. Sam was only good for fucking him. Not even for that anymore, probably, since cheating wasn’t okay, supposedly. (Okay, it really wasn’t. Sam knew that.) “Right,” he said one more time. It was probably the only word he’d ever say to Blaine again.

Except…wait. Cheating wasn’t okay. But what if…

“So, are you going to….” No, scratch that. He knew the answer already. “Have you and Kurt officially gotten back together?” He left the word _yet_ unspoken.

“I haven’t talked to him, so…”

“So we could…I could fuck you right now. And it wouldn’t be cheating.” Since that was all Blaine ever wanted him for or ever would.

“What, like…right here?”

“Why not?” Sam was desperate, he was pretty sure this was his last chance to be with Blaine in any way at all. It wasn’t the way he wanted, but he’d take anything from Blaine over nothing. “Or the supply closet. It’s big enough, and no one will even be able to see if they happen to walk by.”

“It wouldn’t be cheating…” Blaine repeated. 

Sam stepped closer, crowding Blaine against the counter. He moved slowly, though, so Blaine would have plenty of time to stop him if he wanted. Blaine didn’t stop him, not as Sam put a hand on his back and one on his hip, not as he leaned in and put their lips together. Blaine didn’t stop him; he grabbed Sam’s hips and pulled him closer.

They didn’t kiss for long. Sam would have liked to: Blaine was an amazing kisser and he smelled and tasted like...never mind. But he didn’t want to give Blaine time to freak out over the idea that someone might see them through the window in the door…or to realize he didn’t need Sam for kissing, since that was something Kurt _was_ willing to do. Sam forced himself to break away, and he led Blaine to the supply closet. It wasn’t quite as roomy as Sam had remembered it—probably because he’d never been in there with another person—but it would work, provided they did it while standing.

As soon as the closet door closed behind them, they each went for each other's pants; Sam got Blaine's undone first. He reached inside Blaine’s briefs and felt his cock go from half to fully hard in his hand in a matter of seconds. 

He wasn’t sure if it was something Blaine would want him to do especially—it was probably something Kurt was willing to do—but Sam wanted to taste Blaine’s dick one more time. He’d grown to really like it, the taste of dick. Of Blaine’s anyway. He’d been thinking he’d gradually come to like the taste of his come too, but he guessed he’d have to forget about that. It was a little cramped for kneeling in front of Blaine, but he managed it. He looked up to make sure Blaine didn’t actually object, and Blaine looked down at him and said, “God, Sam.” 

He pushed Blaine’s pants and underwear down to his knees and licked all around the head. There was a little bit of pre-come, and it didn't even taste bad at all. Blaine sucked in a loud breath and grabbed onto Sam’s hair. He didn’t actually pull it, although had kind of liked having his hair pulled before. 

Sam wished they didn’t have to be quick. He would have liked to suck Blaine off slowly before fucking him. But they did have to be quick—they were in a relatively private spot in the school, but still in the school, after all. He just wanted to taste all of it, even if he couldn’t linger, and he went down to the balls and covered every inch—every millimeter—of Blaine's junk with his tongue. 

Before he stood up again he just had to actually suck a little, just the tip, just for a second. Blaine did pull his hair then, and he whined, and it was so hot that Sam almost threw the whole “being quick” plan out the window. He took a little more than the tip in his mouth, and then a little more, and yet a little more, and Blaine started moving his hips, and Sam grabbed them and tried to hold them in place but didn’t totally succeed…

The only thing that stopped Sam from just letting Blaine fuck his mouth until he came was that he was worried he wouldn’t be able to swallow his come and that would ruin their last time together. Well, that and they really _should_ try to be quick. So he stood up before Blaine got to that point.

Blaine blinked at him disorientedly. “Sorry. Did I…”

Sam wasn’t even sure what Blaine was asking, but he answered, “No, it’s all good.”

“Are you ready then? How should we…”

“We need something to use as lube.”

“Yeah, right. Spit, I guess. It’ll probably hurt a little, but I’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t want to _hurt_ you,” Sam objected. “Not even a little.”

He scanned the shelves, trying to find something they could use. There were plenty of viscous liquids, but he didn’t think glue or paint would be such a good idea. Suddenly he remembered something. A couple weeks ago they’d done a project in class with X-Acto knives, and at the end of class Ms. Green had shown them how to protect the blades by putting a little Vaseline on them. He just needed a minute to find it, and…a-ha, there it was! He turned around to show off his find and was greeted by the sight of Blaine, naked now from the waist down, with one foot propped up on the lowest shelf, working a finger in and out of his ass. “I’m officially jealous of your finger,” Sam said.

“Don’t be. It’s just getting things ready for you. Did you find something?” Sam showed him the Vaseline. “Huh, what are the odds that’d be here? Sure seems better than papier-mâché.”

“Why would you even think of papier-mâché?”

“Why would the art teacher think of storing Vaseline in here?”

“It’s for…never mind.” Sam opened the jar and poised his finger just above it. “Want me to do the honors?”

“Yeah. Two fingers.” Blaine turned his back to Sam and propped his foot up again, on the second shelf this time. 

Sam plunged two fingers into the jar and covered them in goo. _Sam goo_ he suddenly remembered Blaine calling his jizz once. God, he missed Blaine already, even though he was right there in front of him.

This was no time to be sappy, he reminded himself. This was about nothing but fucking. He rubbed some of the goo around Blaine’s rim and then carefully—but not sappily--slid first one, then soon a second finger inside. 

Blaine was humming, and it was super hot. That is, it was hot if it meant Blaine liked Sam’s fingers in his ass—Sam was pretty sure that was what it meant. He was even more sure when Blaine pushed his ass out more to get Sam’s fingers farther up inside him.

Sam wanted more than his fingers in there. He wanted it super bad, but he didn’t want to be the one to ask if Blaine was ready—partly because he didn’t want to rush him if he wasn't, but also partly because…well, he really wanted Blaine to _ask_ for it. He wanted to know this whole thing between them—even if it was just sex as far as Blaine was concerned—wasn’t _completely_ one-sided.

“Sam?” 

Sam hoped this was Blaine about to ask for it. “Yeah?”

“Will you fuck me now, baby? Please?”

It killed Sam— _killed_ him—that Blaine had just called him baby. Almost certainly without realizing it, but still. “Of course I will, baby.” 

Sam withdrew his fingers and wiped them on his own pants, which he pushed down to his knees. He stood right up against Blaine, and Blaine grabbed hold of a shoulder-level shelf, and they both had to make some adjustments but eventually they got everything lined up right. When Sam finally pushed his dick in, it just slid in totally perfectly. Blaine was all warm and tight and slippery, and he was humming again, and this time Sam _knew_ the humming meant everything was good. “So good, Blaine. God, you’re so good.”

Blaine moaned in response. 

“So fucking good. Fucking you is _so good_.” Sam knew he should shut up, but he kind of couldn’t. It was all he could do not to blurt about something about his _feelings_ and not just about _fucking_. _So good_ seemed to be a safe if not very original thing to say, so he kept repeating it. “So good, so good, so fucking good.”

“Sam. Sam!”

“Yeah?” Sam nibbled on the back of Blaine’s neck—he sort of bit him, in fact. He couldn’t help it—fucking Blaine was so fucking good he couldn’t stand it.

“Sam, I need to…I’ll fall over if I let go of the shelf. _Please_ , baby!”

Sam almost came at that—at Blaine’s neediness, at his desperate tone…at him calling him baby again. He managed not to come instantly, but it definitely pushed him a lot closer to the inevitable. 

He reached around and started jerking Blaine sloppily. He was sucking a spot on Blaine’s neck now, so he couldn’t continue repeating _So good_ —but he kept thinking it. That and all the things he couldn’t say out loud.

_Please, Blaine._

_Please don’t go back to Kurt._

_I love you._

It was on _I love you_ that he started to come. 

Blaine cried out, and Sam was afraid he’d bitten him. He had, but that wasn’t it; it was that Blaine was coming too. They lost the rhythm they’d had, and Blaine bit down on his own hand while shooting his jizz all over Sam’s hand and whatever art supplies had the misfortune of being in the way, while Sam chanted “Blaine, Blaine, Blaine” in time to his final thrusts.

They both went quiet at the same time. Blaine leaned heavily on the shelves in front of him, and Sam slumped against his back.

But not for long.

Blaine was the one who said, “I guess we should get out of here before the janitor or someone comes.”

Sam didn’t think the janitor probably cleaned the classrooms _right_ after school, but he said “Yeah” and pulled his pants back up. Blaine found a towel to clean the Vaseline off with before putting his back on.

“So, uh…” Blaine started.

“I know.”

“You know what?”

“That you’re going back to Kurt and we can’t do this anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, we’ve said that before, and…”

“Yeah, but I know. For real this time."

“Yeah. But, hey, you and Mercedes…”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“The only person I want doesn’t want me. I know that. Don’t try to, like, cheer me up.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Blaine reached out like he was going to touch Sam’s arm, but all he did was fix a button that had come loose on his cardigan. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Sam gave a half-smile, which was all he could muster. “Right.”


End file.
